Wages Of Our Follies
by Bill K
Summary: Travel back to post World War 2 occupied Japan, where Sakura Shinguji and the ancestors of the Sailor Senshi unite to track down a menace stalking the United States occupation forces and threatening the future of Japan and of the senshi themselves.
1. The Summons

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 1: "The Summons"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen crossover fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

Sailor Moon and all related characters are (c)2012 by Naoko Takeuchi and are used without permission, but with respect. Story is (c)2012 by Bill K.

* * *

The characters of the Sakura Taisen video game, manga and anime, which is ( c ) 2012 by SEGA, are used without permission, but with respect.

* * *

Friday, March 4, 2011:

"Thank you for driving us, Ami," Rei said suddenly.

It was almost an afterthought. Minako glanced over at the priest, sitting on the other side of Makoto as the three wedged in the back of Ami's Toyota mid-size. Minako didn't say anything, but it was obvious to her that the late recall of manners that Rei was compulsive about spoke of her mood. Rei never forgot such things unless she was angry or preoccupied with something - - and she clearly wasn't angry.

"I could have driven us," Minako suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like Rei said," Makoto spoke up, glancing wryly at Minako. "Thanks, Ames."

Makoto had risen to the bait Minako had laid out. But Rei just looked out the window.

"You know, if SOMEONE wasn't built like a Shinto shrine, we'd have enough room for three back here," needled Minako, nudging Makoto with her hip. Makoto nudged back, but Rei ignored the banter. "So who were we going to see again?" Minako came out directly. Clearly subtlety wasn't going to work on Rei in this mood.

"Sakura Ogami," Ami said, easing the Toyota onto the road headed to the northern part of Tokyo.

"That name sounds familiar," Usagi spoke up. She was sitting in the front with Ami. "Was she an idol or something?"

"No she wasn't an idol!" snapped Rei. Minako observed the swell of emotion in the priest's face. "Ogami-Sensei is a priest! She may be the greatest priest in the history of Japan! She was the priest my grandfather apprenticed under."

"Really?" gasped Usagi, oblivious to Rei's annoyance once dear departed "Grampa" entered the conversation.

"Well that explains why you know her," Minako posed. "Why would we know her?"

"Ogami is her married name." Ami related. "Ogami-Sensei was also a member of the Imperial Flower Division back in the twenties, when she was known as Sakura Shinguji."

"No joke?" gasped Minako. "I saw the anime about them! With those old steam-powered battle suits? Those were too cool for school!"

"I remember that! Wasn't Ensign Ogami just too cute!" Usagi joined in.

"That was a very fictionalized account of historical events," Ami informed them. "While they did pioneer the science of hard suit technology, those anime took a great deal of - - creative liberties with actual historical fact and science."

"Yeah, because actual historical fact makes for REALLY interesting movie going," Minako scowled.

"But that happened in the twenties, didn't it?" Makoto asked. "That means this Ogami-Sensei has to be . . .?"

"She's one hundred and four years old," Rei finished the thought. "Ogami-Sensei is confined to a nursing home in the north."

"How is her health?" Ami asked, both from compassion and from medical curiosity.

"I don't know," Rei answered pensively. "In spite of our family connection, this is the first contact I've had with her since I was five. I've made attempts, but she's - - very reclusive now. She has been ever since going into the nursing home almost fifteen years ago. The fact that she's summoned me to her now, out of the blue, really has me concerned."

"You think she's," Usagi ventured timidly, "about to die?"

"She's one hundred and four. The thought crossed my mind," Rei admitted. "Maybe she has something she needs to get off of her chest." She shrugged helplessly. "Or maybe she just wants to say 'good-bye'."

"I doubt it's that," Minako suggested. "If she just wants to say 'good-bye', why ask for us to come along? We didn't know her."

"I thought of that, too," Rei frowned. "But that would mean it could be something worse than just her dying."

* * *

There was an artificial quality to the facility, though it tried not to be. The staff was pleasant. The walls were painted in cheery colors and the furnishings were comfortable. Decorative flora surrounded the facility and was in good supply inside as well. The people living there put on a happy face and tried to be cheerful. But it all couldn't quite disguise the fact that the people who lived there were there because they could no longer take care of themselves, they had no family to care for them or else no family who wanted to care for them, and they were basically waiting to die. It was knowing that reason deep down that kept Rei from bristling when Usagi stopped to cheer up a woman sitting in the lobby seemingly lost in a mild depression. The priest wanted to get to her destination as soon as possible, but realized that to object would be cruel to the person Usagi was visiting.

"You ever wonder what you're going to do when you get old?" Makoto wondered aloud to the others, but not so loudly that anyone beyond their group could hear.

"Only in my nightmares," Minako scowled. "I'm not ready to do character parts."

"It doesn't have to be a death sentence, Blondie. Your mom is, what, fifty now? And she still looks good. And Rei's dad is still pretty good looking. And Ami's mom . . ."

"All the more reason to take care of your health now," Ami observed. "The more you take care of your body, the longer it will function at peak efficiency."

"This has been a public service announcement from the Japanese Ministry Of Health," Minako groused. "So what's better: Live fast and die young, or die old, but never have lived?"

"There's a third possibility you haven't considered," Ami countered, glancing disdainfully over her glasses. "Live fast and then spend the last thirty years of your life paying for it."

"That poor woman," Usagi said when she rejoined the group. "She has no family who visit her and her only friend just died last week. I wish I could do something more for her."

"Maybe we can give her room number to a few of the guys living here," Minako leered. In spite of herself, Rei snorted out a laugh that put everyone temporarily at ease.

Arriving at Sakura Ogami's room, Rei politely knocked, then entered as the staff said to do. A television was on in the room. Laying in the bed was a frail-looking old woman. Her skin was white and wrinkled and seemed as fragile as tissue. She was barely skin and bones, her body atrophying with each passing day. Long white hair fanned out from her head across the pillow and mattress. Thick black frame glasses with thick lenses sat on her face. An intravenous solution dripped through a tube into one arm. Her head turned slightly at the sound of the door with the most feeble of motion. But her eyes locked onto them and it was clear that the mind behind them was as sharp as any of them.

"Come in," the old woman gestured with a gnarled claw of a hand. Her voice was hoarse and raspy. Rei moved forward, with Ami at her side looking intently at the old woman. The others hung back. "My, but you look so much like Gon's daughter. You have to be Rei. How long has it been?"

"Twenty-five years, at least, Sensei," Rei answered. She was in total awe of this woman and just a little intimidated.

"You don't have to be so formal," Ogami grinned. "You're not five anymore, and I'm not the priest I once was. Sakura will do, if I can call you Rei."

"I'd be honored," Rei nodded.

"Can I get you a drink?" Ami asked.

"Thank you," Ogami smiled, "but I can still do a few things for myself. The raspy voice is more from brittle vocal cords than anything." She turned back to Rei. "Thank you for coming. And thank you for bringing your friends."

"How exactly do you know about us?" Makoto asked.

"I knew you were friends with Rei from Gon - - that's Rei's grandfather. Gon and I kept in touch over the years, at his insistence I must admit. I wanted to completely withdraw from the world after my body began to decline, but Gon wouldn't let me. He always had a way of bending you to his will without you knowing you were being bent until it was too late." Her mood turned melancholy. "He was a good priest. He could have been an excellent one if he could have kept his mind from wandering to girls all the time."

Several knowing giggles punctuated that statement.

"As for your - - other qualities," Ogami continued and chills suddenly ran down the spines of her five guests, "I have had ways of seeing things that aren't always visible to other people. You know what I mean, Rei. It may even be stronger in you."

"Remarkable," Ami said. "Have you ever been tested for PKE ability?"

Ogami waved her gnarled hand. "It's not important now. The reason I summoned you five here is because there are things in my past that connects with your families and ultimately to you." Her brow furrowed. "I don't know why I suddenly sensed this need. But I've learned not to argue with such feelings. So if you don't mind listening to the ramblings of an old woman, I want to tell you about something that happened long ago."

The five visitors found places to sit around Ogami's bed. The old women took a deep breath to clear her mind and strengthen her voice.

"It first started in December of 1945," she began. "Tokyo was four months into the American occupation."

* * *

It was a bleak winter for Japan, the latest of several bleak winters. The infrastructure of Tokyo was cracked and broken from the bombings of the US Air Force, and Tokyo had gotten off lightly compared to some other cities. And were it not for that same US military, they'd all be starving as they had during the spring and summer. But on top of that, Tokyo was just now settling back into a routine. The war was finally over.

Sakura Ogami walked through the streets of Tokyo headed for the small cluster of shops and restaurants near the shrine she ran. Her mission was to collect her wayward pupil, Gon Narita, but the walk also gave her the chance to get away from the shrine and mingle with the population. Adorned in her priest's robes and the crimson ribbon that held her long, thick black hair back from her head, she was an impressive figure on the streets in spite of her short stature. Strangers noticed her striking, mature beauty. Locals knew of her physical and spiritual strength.

Her mission was two-fold, for it also hopefully gave her a chance to not wonder about her husband, Commander Ichiro Ogami. Troops had been coming home to Japan for months now, ever since the surrender papers had been signed. It had already been months since she had heard from him or heard of news about the fighter squadron he commanded. Now the fear gnawed at her that she would never hear from him again. So many women came to the shrine telling her stories of husbands and sons who had died in the final desperate days trying to hold off the Americans, or killed themselves under orders rather than be captured alive. So many more came, wondering why their husbands and sons hadn't come home, wondering where they were, wondering if they would ever know if they were alive or dead. As a priest, they looked to her for guidance. But what guidance could she give them when she was in the same boat they were?

On a whim, Sakura stopped by the small grocery shop owned by Suichiro Mizuno. Upon hearing the bell, Mizuno and his wife Sukio, four months pregnant, both hurried out and bowed to their customer. Their faces lit up when they saw the priest.

"Sensei!" Mizuno beamed. "How nice to see you! Is this a social call or did you wish to buy something?"

Mizuno tried to disguise the desperation in his voice, but Sakura could see differently. A merchant who sold food had a hard time of it when there was little food to sell, little money among the neighborhood to buy with, and humanitarian food aide was being doled out by the Occupation Forces in direct competition with him. Suichiro Mizuno, small and thin and unimpressive physically, was a kind man and had been a good friend to her during the hard times she faced during the war. Now he was on hard times.

"Actually I was just looking for my wandering apprentice," Ogami informed him. There was a tug at her heart. She hadn't intended to buy anything. "But as long as I'm here, I'll have some Oolong tea. And maybe three of those radishes."

Bowing crisply, Mizuno limped over to the shelf to retrieve a box of tea while his wife wrapped some radishes in brown paper. Suichiro Mizuno was one of the few men younger than Ogami who had been in Tokyo during the war. Since his lower left leg was gone due to an accident and was replaced with a wooden peg, he had been unfit for military service even during the desperate times of early 1945. Which, Ogami felt, was a good thing, as someone as kind and as gentle as the slight Suichiro Mizuno would have made a poor soldier.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen Narita-San," Mizuno told her as she handed him some coins. "Does he wander away from his duties often?"

"More than he should," Ogami offered.

Mizuno leaned in, his black hair falling across his eyes. "Maybe he's possessed by a demon." Suichiro Mizuno may have been a kind man, but he wasn't a modern one. He still believed all of the old superstitions that had ruled the undereducated Japanese peasant class for centuries.

"He's possessed by a lustful eye," snorted Sukio. Ogami smothered a laugh.

"Now, Mizuno-San, if he were possessed, don't you think I'd know it?" Ogami asked.

"Yes, I suppose you would," Mizuno nodded thoughtfully. Then his eyes grew wide. "Maybe the Americans got him!"

"The Americans don't eat people!" fussed Sukio. "You've never seen one eat a person, have you!"

"They do it at night when no one can see them!" Suichiro hissed back.

"Mizuno-San," Ogami said patiently, her hand on the grocer's shoulder, "I've told you before the Americans don't eat people. That's just a story the government told us - - and they were wrong about everything else."

"I told you!" Sukio scowled.

"As you say, Sensei," Mizuno said, bowing to her. "You know more about these things than I do. Good fortune in finding Narita-San."

"Thank you," Ogami nodded as she turned to leave. "And good fortune to you, too. I'll pray that your business picks up."

"Pray that things pick up for all of Japan," Mizuno countered.

Back on the street, Ogami-Sensei headed next for a teahouse that was a favorite hangout of Gon Narita before he became her apprentice. Sure enough, she found him there, engaged in an animated conversation with Futabara Hino, who was also apprenticing as a priest at another shrine. As she approached, she could hear their conversation.

"It's shameful," Hino argued. He was tall and slender, with black hair and violet eyes. The youth was passably handsome, but not her type. "Selling themselves to anyone who has five hundred yen. It's a sign of how far this country has fallen."

"I admit," replied Narita, a shorter, bulkier man with a moon face and a shaven head, "that desperate times has forced some to desperate measures. But I have to disagree with you in one respect: Surviving is never shameful."

"Come off it, Gon. They're not doing it to survive. They're doing it to thumb their nose at the government. They feel lied to, and they were, but shaming everyone around you isn't the proper response. Just because you like looking at them . . ."

"What are you two so animated about, if I may ask?" Ogami asked, coming up next to their table.

"Ogami-Sensei!" Hino gasped and bowed respectfully. Narita also got up and bowed to her. "We were just debating the implications of . . well . . ."

"Of the Pan-Pan Girls," Narita interjected. "I apologize if I'm late getting back to the shrine, but Hino and I just got caught up in the debate . . ."

"And I'm certain the subject is very dear to you," Ogami replied with a cynical grin. Narita just gave her a guilty smile.

"It's my fault for keeping him, Sensei," offered Hino. "Don't be angry with him."

"I'm not, I guess," Ogami responded. "It got me out of the shrine, I guess."

"Has there been any word about Commander Ogami?"

"No," Ogami said softly and looked down.

"I'll say a prayer for him," Hino told her.

Ogami nodded and turned to go. Narita fell in behind her. Quietly they walked back to the shrine.

"It would be a tragedy if Commander Ogami has been claimed by this war," Narita offered. "Given everything else you've suffered because of it."

"He didn't want to go," Ogami related. "He thought command had gone too far, drawing the British and the Americans into the conflict with China and the Philippines. But he was an officer and he followed orders, even if he didn't agree with them. There was no other alternative to his mind."

"I'm not so dedicated," Narita mused. "I'm glad I didn't have to go."

"Sometimes I wonder if you only became my apprentice so you wouldn't have to join the army," Sakura said, glancing at him with a wry look.

"Not true. I believe in peace and I have a need to guide others along the spiritual path," Narita replied. Then he grinned. "Getting out of serving in the army was just a bonus."

"Remember that when you're scrubbing the floors tonight," Ogami told him.

Then she stopped short. Narita took another step before he realized she had stopped, and looked curiously at her. The priest was staring down the street at two US marines walking down the street. They were chatting with each other, oblivious to everything around them, probably headed back to the marine garrison by the port.

"Sensei?" Narita asked. "What is it?"

Without warning, a Japanese man burst out of one of the buildings and charged the two marines. He was thin and gaunt with the haunted expression that both Ogami and Narita had seen on the returning soldiers. The man stopped for a moment, as if surprised the door had held so little opposition to him. Then he charged the two marines, emitting a blood-curdling howl. A long kitchen knife was in his right hand.

Continued in Chapter 2


	2. A Sea Of Ill Will

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 2: "A Sea Of Ill Will"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen crossover fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

A man down the street turned at the sound of the blood-curdling scream and looked to where the sound had come from. He saw a man, one Gon Narita, stare in shock. He saw a woman in priest robes, one Sakura Ogami, charge forward, her long black hair flowing behind her, as if meeting an enemy head on were as common an experience to her as lighting a candle. His vision shifted and he saw another man, gaunt and stripped to the waist, charge barefoot into the street. He was rushing toward two American marines and he had a kitchen knife in his hand. The priest was trying to stop him, but she wasn't going to get to him before he got to the marines.

One of the marines, a blond youth barely twenty, stood startled and frozen, panicked by the charge. The other, also blond and also just twenty, instinctively sprung into action. He brought his military M-1 rifle crisply to a firing position, giving the charging man a second to stop. When he continued coming, the marine squeezed off one shot that tore through the charging man's neck and shoulder. Shoved backward by the shot, his feet flailed in the air and his back slammed to the stone pavement. Sensing movement, the marine whirled and leveled his weapon at Ogami. But she ignored it and slid to her knees by the fallen man.

"Sensei, look out!" Gon shouted. The rifle momentarily trained on him, then went back to Ogami.

["I'm a priest!"] Ogami yelled at the soldiers in English. ["I'm not going to attack!"] Turning her attention to the fallen man, Ogami grimaced. Blood was gushing from the wound and his eyes were already glazing over. She put her hands over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, to little avail. By now dozens of locals were in the streets buzzing about the incident. Both marines held their weapons ready and nervously looked around.

"They said I was a coward," the bleeding man mumbled. Ogami stared intently at him. "For coming back alive. Said I was a coward - - for letting the Americans come - - for failing the Emperor. Shunned me. Spat on me - - after everything I went through." His lip trembled.

["Will, did you have to shoot him?"] the other marine asked the shooter.

["He was in a kamikaze charge, Chris,"] said the shooter. Now that Ogami was close enough, she saw that the two Americans resembled each other so much, they had to be brothers, possibly twins. ["I saw enough of them in Saipan and Iwo to know one. I didn't get this far to let some Jap get me now."]

"I thought," wheezed the dying man, "if I killed an American - - they would all forgive me." His eyes shifted over to Ogami. "Please pray for me, Sensei."

And he died. Just then a jeep pulled up with a squad of four Military Police. The locals began to disperse. The driver walked up while the other three fanned out for crowd control.

["What's going on here, Private?"] the police sergeant demanded.

["Sergeant!"] Will barked at attention. ["I was defending myself against attack from a local, Sergeant!"]

["What's your name, Private?"]

["Private First Class William Ohlendorf, Sergeant!"] Will responded.

["Didn't decide to use the locals for a little target practice, did you Ohlendorf?"] the sergeant insinuated. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Chris. ["What's your name?"]

["Corporal Christopher Ohlendorf, Sergeant! It's just as Will said happened!"]

["I DIDN'T ASK YOU!"] roared the Sergeant. ["What are you two, married or something?"]

["If I may,"] Ogami said, drawing everyone's attention. ["It is as Private Ohlendorf says. This man sought to kill an American, to atone for a great loss of face,"] and she glanced back at the remaining gawkers, ["so he would be accepted once again by his neighbors and family."] Several of the on-lookers retreated. ["He confessed this to me before he died."]

["I see. I may need you to make a statement for the official record. What shrine are you affiliated with?"] the sergeant asked.

["The Shrine On Sendai Hill,"] Ogami answered. ["I will see to the body, Sergeant."]

["Thank you."] Turning back to the marines, he asked, ["Now what were you two doing on the streets this late?"]

["Um,"] Will began anxiously, ["we were - - on patrol."]

["Yeah? Wouldn't have been patrolling the local whore-house, would you?"] Both brothers got very nervous. ["You better come up with a better excuse than that from being away from post or your ass is going to be in a sling! Now let's go, Ladies!"]

While two Military Police dispersed the crowd, the Ohlendorf brothers climbed into the jeep and were whisked away. Gon came over and knelt next to Ogami, who was praying over the corpse.

"It's a good thing you know English," Gon told her. "I thought that American was going to shoot you."

"He was just protecting himself," Ogami replied. "Sometimes life forces us to do things we don't want to do. Just like I doubt this man really wanted to kill an American. He just wanted to come home and live his life in peace. But so many people still believe what the government told them about duty and sacrifice. They blame these poor soldiers who didn't want to fight in the first place and who just want to come home and reclaim what they had." She sighed. "Sometimes life forces us to do things we don't want to do. And it exacts a terrible price from those who stand up and say 'no, I won't do it'."

* * *

Yoshiko Tanaka walked down the street thinking of last night. Though she was only sixteen years old, she had the aura of a woman about her - - a western woman. She wore a fine blue silk blouse with a darker blue bolero jacket and a matching dark blue skirt that fanned out from her slim hips and bounced loosely around her knees. Black hose, lined up the back, decorated her thin legs and ended in black stiletto heels held to her feet across the toe and by an ankle strap. Her fine brown hair was styled the way the Andrews Sisters had wore their hair on the American record album she'd seen. Her lips were blood red from lipstick, her cheeks were rouged to a delicate scarlet and her eyelids above the black eyeliner were aqua. Pearl earrings were attached to her lobes and she carried a black patent leather purse with a faux gold chain strap. Though the ensemble didn't provide much protection against the December morning in Tokyo, she didn't plan to be outside very long.

And she had appearances to maintain.

"Yoshiko-Chan?" she heard someone exclaim. The voice sounded familiar, so she turned around. There on the street was a girl her age. Her long brown hair was gathered behind her at the shoulder by a worn ribbon. Her peasant mompe was faded and frayed. She herself was thinner than Yoshiko remembered, her eyes not as bright, her cheeks sallow and her hands rough. But that was Japan these days.

"Yuki-Chan?" Yoshiko exclaimed in surprise. It had been almost a year since she'd seen her best friend from school. But it was her. "When did you get back to Tokyo?"

"Last month," Yuki said, approaching the girl with a smile now that her identification was confirmed. "Yoshiko-Chan, I hardly recognize you!"

"Do you like it?" Yoshiko asked excitedly, pirouetting for her friend. Several passers by gave her a denigrating look. "This is what the women in American are wearing! I look Hollywood, U.S.A.!"

"Where did you get these clothes?"

"Some of the local shops," Yoshiko shrugged. "They're stocking them, hoping to sell them to American marines to send back to their wives."

"They must cost a fortune! How do you afford it?" Yuki asked in amazement.

"Some of the marines buy them for me," Yoshiko admitted with pride. Yuki clouded over.

"Just like that?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well," Yoshiko began with a cheshire grin, "I do something for them, too."

An expression of horror grew on her friend's face. It wasn't the first time Yoshiko had experienced it.

"Yoshiko-Chan!" Yuki gasped. "Y-You're a-a Pan-Pan Girl?" Yoshiko scowled.

"Yes, I am," Yoshiko replied defensively.

"By the gods, why?"

"Why?" Yoshiko fumed. "Because my father was dragged off to the army and killed at Guadalcanal! Because my mother died of dysentery eight months ago! Because the government seized our home so some Prefect Captain could live in it after his burned to the ground in an air raid! Because I spent months living on the street, starving to death, wondering if I was going to survive to see seventeen!" She felt her stomach churn, both from the sad memories she was dredging up and from the expression on her best friend's face. "Well I've got all the food I want now! I've got pretty clothes and money in my purse! And one of these marines is going to fall in love with me and take me back to America with him so I don't have to die in this broken country! So don't judge me, Yuki-Chan! I didn't get the chance to be evacuated to the country like you did!"

"I didn't know," Yuki replied solemnly. "I'm sorry you faced so much hardship. Did your mother suffer very much?"

"More than she should have," Yoshiko mumbled sullenly. Her bright mood was gone. "So how was the country?"

A subtle change came over Yuki.

"They made us work," Yuki admitted. "Twelve hour days, sometimes fourteen, working in the fields and paddies. We didn't do any studying. They made us work the fields all day, every day. And everything we grew went to the military or to the government officials. They fed us rice gruel that was so thin. We slept at night with our stomachs feeling so empty. And the locals all taunted us and made fun of us for being from the city. My back still hurts and I don't know if my hands will ever be soft again. It felt like I was in prison more than anything."

Yoshiko's anger was gone now, replaced by sympathy for her friend.

"Wow," Yoshiko mumbled. "I guess you've had it pretty rough, too." Then she brightened. "Hey, I know! Come on down to the dress shop with me! I'll buy you some pretty clothes! We'll get your hair fixed up and maybe you can snag yourself an American marine, too!"

The look she got from Yuki was not the grateful smile she expected.

"It's not that hard, Yuki-Chan," Yoshiko persisted. "You just pretend you're in love with him. After two or three times, maybe you will be."

"No, Yoshiko-Chan," Yuki said, shaking her head. "What would my parents think?"

"OK," Yoshiko sighed in resignation. "But morality doesn't seem as important when your empty belly is screaming at you."

Yuki gave her friend a last, disappointed look and then turned to leave. Yoshiko, feeling the gulf that had risen between her and a friend that she had shared everything with just one short year ago, turned and headed off to her tiny apartment over a laundry.

* * *

At the Shrine On Sendai Hill, apprentice Gon Narita went about his morning duties: cleaning the grounds, washing the floors of the shrine, bringing water from the well for Ogami-Sensei's use, and helping any worshipers who might stop by. The burly little gnome of a man took to his tasks with energy. He especially liked helping out those who stopped by for an amulet or a fortune - - particularly the females. Right now he was sweeping around the ancient tree that was in the center of the grounds. Suddenly he stopped and sniffed the air. Ogami-Sensei just happened to walk up.

"Something, Narita-San?" the woman, beautiful at thirty-five even though she did little to maintain her looks, asked.

"Just a scent," Narita replied. "It's been, what, four or five months since America stopped firebombing Tokyo?"

"Yes."

"And yet, when the wind is just right, you can still catch a whiff of charred wood." Narita's great beaming moon face dimmed a little. "Especially if it's blowing from the direction of the Imperial Palace."

"There are going to be scars on our land and our people for a long time," Ogami said. "The least little thing is going to remind us of the horrors we've gone through. The wise man is mindful of his past, but does not let it keep him from journeying to his future."

"How do you do it, Master?" Narita asked. "With everything that we've gone through the past few years, and everything you've suffered on top of that - - your husband missing, you being branded a traitor for not supporting the war - - how do you keep going forward, and help others besides?"

"My father," Ogami answered. "He sacrificed everything to save Japan in the first demonic invasion. He always felt that selflessness was a duty, that personal suffering was insignificant compared to the greater good. We all suffer, Narita-San, to some extend. It's what we do in spite of that suffering that marks our worth in this world."

The scratch of sandals on the stone path of the shrine caught their attention. Turning, they found Kentaro Kino walking toward them. Kentaro Kino was little changed from what they knew of him in recent times. Unusually tall for a Japanese, he seemed gaunt as a rail and his face was ruddy with a mixture of grime and days old beard. His brown hair was unkempt, falling across his forehead, and his clothes were worn and frayed, and had been worn for several days. He walked with a stoop and his face was lined with the effort of his hard life, for Kentaro Kino had nothing amid a city of people who had little. But as he approached the priest and her assistant, a hopeful smile peaked on his face. He bowed respectfully to them.

"Good morning, Sensei," Kino said. "Do you think you'll have any jobs for me to do for you?" The question made Ogami heartsick and she wasn't able to disguise her reaction enough. Kino saw it, but he maintained his hopeful expression.

"I'm sorry, Kino-San," Ogami said. She didn't equivocate, because she didn't want to give him false hope, but she tried to be as gentle and as sympathetic as possible. "I don't have anything for you. Maybe tomorrow."

"I understand, Sensei," he nodded.

"How's your wife doing?" Ogami quickly asked.

"Getting by," he replied. "There isn't a lot of laundry to do anymore, and there's so much competition for it. But she doesn't really know how to do anything else. If I could find steady work, she wouldn't have to do it at all. But, given my background . . ."

"Say, have you thought of checking with the crews rebuilding the houses?" Narita suggested. "The provisional government is spending a lot of money to rebuild. And you have a manufacturing background, so you should be able to pick up carpentry pretty quick."

"It's not a bad idea," Kino told him, buoyed by something other than prayer. He turned to Ogami. "Do you think you could put in a good word for me, Sensei?"

"I'm not sure how much weight my word might have with the government, Kino-San," Ogami answered. "Besides, a strong back and a willingness to work will probably go further than anything I might say. I will say a prayer for you, though."

"Thank you!" Kino exclaimed, bowed crisply, then hurried off. On his way, he passed Yuki Saboru making her was up the path. Yuki glanced at the man as he passed, thinking she recognized him. Turning back, she ended up face to face into Gon Narita.

"Welcome!" beamed Narita, his moon face up in hers. "So glad to see a pretty young thing like you back at this holy place. Is there anything I can help you with? Perhaps you'd like to be a shrine maiden?"

"Um," Yuki stammered nervously. To her relief, Ogami moved in.

"And you were doing so well, too, Narita-San," she twittered. "I'll help Saboru-Chan. You have sweeping to do."

"Yes, Master," sighed Narita. He turned and headed back for the tree.

"He's harmless," smiled Ogami. "He's just a little over eager to please, particularly when it comes to females."

"Um hmm," Yuki scowled and Ogami sensed she wasn't convinced. "That man I passed. Who is he? He looks familiar."

"That," Ogami admitted reluctantly, "is Kentaro Kino."

"The Kentaro Kino who owned Nagashiki Motor Works?"

"The same."

"But he was a rich and powerful man! What happened?"

"The Americans saw him as a collaborator with the Imperial government," explained Ogami. "Because he made trucks for the army. His plant was seized. They even thought about prosecuting him, but decided against it. But his fortune is gone. His business is gone. All in four months. Now he scrambles around doing odd jobs just to support himself and his wife. All of his powerful friends either committed suicide, are in prison or shun him because of his connection to the old government."

"That's very sad," Yuki responded.

"I feel sorrier for him than I do some of the others from that ilk," Ogami continued. "He wasn't profiting from the war anymore than he would have profited making autos in peace time. He was just doing what he thought was his patriotic duty. But he was doing it for the side that lost, so now he's got nothing."

Ogami glanced at Yuki and saw the girl had a far off look. She looked at the teen more closely.

"You seem troubled. Are you still thinking about what happened during relocation?"

"Well," Yuki began, then paused. Ogami patiently waited for her to form her thoughts into words. "It's not about what happened during relocation. But," and the girl paused again.

"Did something else happen besides the forced labor?" Ogami gently prodded. She could see with the special sense she had that there was a layer deeper than the betrayal Yuki felt at the hands of her government and her school system.

"Sensei," Yuki began. "Do demons exist?"

Ogami considered her words. "Yes they do," she told the girl. "I've fought them. Why, have you seen a demon?"

"Not seen one," Yuki replied, wringing her hands unconsciously. "But when I was in the country - - back in September and October - - strange things happened."

"What strange things?" Ogami prodded.

"The American soldiers that were there," Yuki related. "Several of them died. They thought some of us had killed them, but we didn't. The students were too weak and frightened to have done such a thing. And the government officials were all in custody. Maybe one of the farmers could have done it . . . but . . ."

"How were these soldiers killed?" Ogami asked thoughtfully.

Yuki shuddered and swallowed. "They were - - torn apart - - like a huge animal had done it." She looked up at Ogami. "Do you think it might have been a demon?"

Ogami didn't answer right away.

Continued in Chapter 3


	3. Love Among The Ruins

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 3: "Love Among The Ruins"  
A Sailor Moon fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

It was morning assembly for the marine units stationed in Tokyo as an occupation force. Several thousand men were jammed into what had once been the Imperial Music Hall, the theater where Sakura Shinguji had once performed as a teenager when she wasn't fighting demons in her steam-powered hard suit. Now it was the staging area and headquarters for the occupation force assigned here by General Douglas MacArthur. The audience, made up of enlisted men and non-commissioned officers, talked among themselves, raising a din that could have been heard outside were it not for the acoustic baffling of the theater.

"TEN-HUT!" bellowed a sergeant from the stage. The audience came to attention, some more quickly than others. After a few moments, a marine Captain walked to the center of the stage. Because of the hall's perfect acoustics, he didn't need a microphone.

"At ease," he told the men. "I want to address two matters that have come to my attention. Because of an incident last night, I want to remind all of you men that we are still in enemy territory. One of our own was attacked by a local, a mustered-out soldier from the Japanese Imperial Army seeking to atone for a perceived failure by killing American military personnel."

A murmur rose through the audience, anxiety mixed with anger.

"While this attitude is not reflective of the Japanese civilian population as a whole," the Captain continued, "it is indicative that this is a foreign and dangerous country, particularly for personnel who are not paying attention to their surroundings and who are where they are not supposed to be. I am not telling you to be paranoid. We do not need indiscriminate killing of Japanese civilians due to thoughts of revenge or paranoia. But I am telling you to pay attention. That quality got you through Guadalcanal, Mindinao, Saipan and Okinawa. And it will get you home to your family intact.

"This leads me to my second point. The Japanese government, in the mistaken belief that American military personnel would sweep through the country and rape every female here, set up government run brothels to - - intercept the problem. Additionally, amateur - - females - - known as 'Pan-Pan Girls' have sprung up seeking to snag an American husband. Or at least an American's wallet.

"As a result, there has been a rise in both venereal disease, putting military personnel out of action, and of personnel being AWOL from their posts or billets. This is interfering with the execution of our mission in this country AND WILL STOP. I will remind you marines of the corps' regulations on non-fraternization. I will also warn you that I have heard that if the problem does not come under control, General MacArthur himself will institute tighter restrictions. And I know we all don't want that, just like we don't want to carry a case of the clap home to the wife that's been waiting for you back in the States. Individual platoon leaders will have your platoon's specific assignments. That is all, gentlemen."

As the audience broke up, Chris Ohlendorf sought out his brother William.

"So, Will!" Chris exclaimed, "what happened with the C-O?"

Will shrugged. "Chewed me out for being away from the staging area. That was all. I think he's kind of happy that I took out one of the Japs who got away."

"Really?" Chris asked, askance. "That's not a very Christian attitude."

"Don't judge him, Chris," Will replied, giving his brother a very serious look. "You were in G-2 linguistics during the final days. You weren't on Saipan or Iwo Jima. You didn't fight these guys day and night, wondering if one of them was going to sneak up and slit your throat or dive in your foxhole and detonate the grenade he had strapped to his chest. And you didn't have to ferret them out of those damn caves." Will paused a moment to better grip his emotions. "I don't trust 'em. And I fought with a lot of guys who think the same way."

"And yet you're dating one of them," Chris argued.

Will smiled, though it almost looked like a leer. "She's too soft to have ever been a soldier. I'll surrender to her any day. If she's an enemy combatant, then Tojo was smarter than I gave him credit for." They walked on. "Hey, can you come by my billet later today? I want to learn more Japanese."

"You've got it bad for this Pan-Pan Girl," Chris marveled.

"Yeah," Will remarked, stopping suddenly. Chris turned and waited for him. "At first she was just a cute piece of tail. But the more I'm with her - - the more I want to be with her. She's just so - - exotic and at the same time a regular girl."

"Sounds like you were in the jungle too long," chuckled Chris.

"Maybe," Will shrugged. "I admit the first thing I noticed when I got assigned to Tokyo was the women. But I really don't notice them anymore." He grinned at his brother. "Well, not as much as I notice Yoshiko."

* * *

Sakura Ogami heard the soft strains of someone singing. At least that's what it seemed to resemble. Perhaps it might have also been someone strangling a frog. She looked up from her book and saw Gon coming up the path, his basket in hand. She had sent him to the store to get some items for the shrine, hence the basket. But her apprentice was far happier than his usual happy-go-lucky self. Why the little bowling ball of a man seemed to be practically bouncing with every step.

"It's probably a woman," Ogami mumbled to herself. Rising to meet him, she said, "You seem quite pleased with life, Narita-San. That's a rare commodity these days."

"Sensei, it's a miracle!" Narita sighed. "I've met the single most beautiful woman the gods have ever placed upon this sacred land."

"Somehow I knew," Ogami smiled wryly. "Where did you meet this woman?"

"At Mizuno-San's shop," he explained. "She was there negotiating with Mizuno-San, hoping to trade a lovely kimono for some food. I fear her family has fallen on hard times, as have so many these days."

"Doesn't her family get food rations from the American military?" Ogami asked.

"Her family is too proud," Narita answered, clouding over. "She is the daughter of Sanjuro Nomimura."

"The former Education Minister?" Ogami exclaimed. "So he was caught in the purge of government officials, too."

"Yes. Unfortunately Nomimura-San refuses charity, particularly American charity. He believed quite fervently in the cause of Japanese Imperialism. He wishes nothing to do with the Americans, and few Japanese wish anything to do with him."

"Was Mizuno-San able to help this girl?"

"Kasumi," Narita exhaled and his stuporous smile returned. "As delicate as the morning dew on a cherry blossom, even in these harsh times. No, Mizuno-San was in no position to accept her barter. It pained him, I could tell, but he had to think of his family and his business. And even with that bitter turn of events, Nomimura maintained her elegance and fragile breeding throughout. It was inspiring."

"Well I pray fortune will smile on them again soon," Ogami said. Then she glanced at the basket. "Narita-San, this isn't everything I asked you to get. Was Mizuno-San in short supply?"

A guilty look flashed across Gon Narita's moon face. Sakura Ogami instantly sensed what had happened, but waited to see if her acolyte would explain it.

"Well," Narita began hesitantly, "I felt it was the charitable thing to give her part of what I had purchased. Only to see her and her family through! Surely the gods will provide, but until they do . . ."

"You have a very kind heart, Narita-San," Ogami smiled. Then her smile grew cynical. "It's hoped that you would have been just as kind had the woman been bent and ugly."

"Assisting others does make the path to the gods that much closer and easier to walk," Narita offered.

"And if you feel the same way when your stomach is grumbling," Ogami added, "perhaps you will have taken another step towards nobility of spirit."

"I will strive to do my best, Sensei," Narita replied happily. "Oh, may I be excused from my duties tomorrow morning? I wanted to visit the Nomimura home. Perhaps I can," and he glanced to the heavens, "be of some further assistance to them. Maybe even help the head of the home see the Americans in a more friendly and charitable light."

"Your interest in this family is purely for spiritual reasons?" Ogami asked as a test.

"I confess my desire to see Nomimura-San's lovely daughter again," admitted Narita. "But the reason I gave is the truth. I do wish to help them." Then he smirked. "And naturally anything that helps the family helps her."

"And perhaps you as well?" Ogami grinned. "You have my permission. Who am I to deny 'true love'? Just don't forget what path you walk, or you could suddenly find yourself in a place you weren't expecting."

* * *

Through the streets of Tokyo that were scattered with those who worked, those who didn't and the American military personnel who kept watch on them both, Yuki Saboru walked with her satchel in her hand. Her light blue pinafore uniform, though old, was clean, pressed and as presentable as could be in these hard times. Yuki walked home from secondary school, such as it was. The government, with the oversight of the Occupation Forces under the command of General MacArthur, tried to keep school going in order to foster some sense of stability in the chaos of post-war society. It was sometimes difficult, for the old Education Ministry had been cleaned out of Imperial Loyalists and the subject matter being taught sometimes had an American flavor to it. Yuki noticed that they were no longer drilled in subjugation to the state and loyalty to the Emperor every day. Math and science were pretty much the same, but history had taken a sharp and different turn from what she was learning last year.

The route Yuki took home was a circuitous one. She had ventured close to the old Imperial Music Hall hoping to catch another glimpse of her old friend Yoshiko Tanaka. Yuki had gotten over her initial shock over what Yoshiko had become and wanted to reconnect with her. And maybe she could talk some sense into her dear friend. For despite her friend's lofty dreams, Yuki saw little future for her friend as a Pan-Pan Girl.

However, Yuki was beginning to have second thoughts about her route. Several times she crossed to the other side of the street to avoid American soldiers standing guard or loitering by shops. The American soldiers still made her nervous. Though the stories her teachers had told her of them being fanged demons who ate babies and raped women seemed false once she actually saw they were just human beings, other stories she'd heard about them looting shops, harassing civilians and shooting those who might protest didn't seem as far-fetched. Thankfully she spotted Yoshiko before she could think more about it.

"Hi, Yuki-Chan!" Yoshiko beamed when she caught sight of the girl. Yuki assumed by her friend's expression that their earlier disagreement had weighed as heavily on Yoshiko as it had on her. "On your way home from school?"

"Yes," Yuki nodded. "I just wanted to stop by and see you again. We didn't part the way I would have liked last time."

"It's fine," Yoshiko said. "I imagine it was a shock to you. Say, do you want to duck in that café and get something to eat? My treat."

"All right," Yuki grinned.

Their conversation started out as small talk. But the longer they spoke, the more Yuki wanted to ask her friend about her new life. Yoshiko sensed this.

"Go ahead and ask," Yoshiko told her. "Just don't judge me, please."

"I'm not," Yuki replied. "Have you had a lot of men?"

"Three," Yoshiko answered. "There's a lot of competition out there."

"How was it?" Yuki asked. "I'm sorry if that's personal."

Yoshiko shrugged. "The first two, I was just selling a commodity. They bought me some nice things, but it didn't work out." Then the girl smiled. "But Will-Chan is different. He's very strong and passionate, but there's a soft side to him that he lets me see. I think he likes me."

"Do you like him?" Yuki inquired. Yoshiko nodded quickly, her cheeks growing crimson. "But they're so big. Aren't you afraid of being swallowed up?"

"Not with Will-Chan," Yoshiko told her. "He's like a warm cocoon that I can wrap myself up in and be safe from everything out here."

Several heads in the café turned, alerting the two girls to a change in the room. They looked up and saw an American marine, tall and blond and brimming with youthful confidence, striding over to them. Seeing he had a rifle in his hand, Yuki clenched up nervously. Then Yoshiko lurched up out of her chair and leaped to him.

"Will-Chan!" she exclaimed.

["Hiya, Yoshiko-baby!"] Will Ohlendorf beamed. He gathered the tiny Japanese teen up in his arms, whisked her off her feet and spun her once around the café before easing her back down. He had a good foot of height on her, but from the expressions on their faces, it was little concern. "Um, I am spending time with you."

Yoshiko giggled and the American's halting attempt at Japanese brought a smile to Yuki's face, too, while easing her concerns. However, a random glance at some of the other patrons of the café told her that they didn't share her acceptance of this public display of interracial accord. She recalled some of them had also looked askance at Yoshiko's attire when they first came in.

["Am grateful, Will-Chan,"] Yoskiko replied in fractured English. ["You Yoshiko's number one G.I. Joe."]

["And who is this?"] Will asked, then shook his head. "Um . . ." he scowled. Not knowing the proper Japanese to ask, he pointed to Yuki.

"Ah," Yoshiko nodded. ["Friend of me,"] and she pointed to herself. ["Saboru Yuki"] and she pointed to Yuki.

["Well, pleased to know you, Saboru,"] Will said, mistaking Yuki's last name for her first. Yoshiko playfully swatted Will on the chest.

"No!" she said with mock indignation. "Saboru-SAN!"

"Saboru-San," Will parroted. ["Sorry. My Japanese is,"] and he held two fingers close together.

["I know small English,"] Yuki nodded. ["Am pleased to make your acquaintance."]

The bell on the front door rang, signaling that another customer was there. Yuki glanced at the door and saw another American marine rushing in. She was surprised that he looked almost exactly like Yoshiko's dear Will-Chan. The newcomer ran up to Will and grabbed him by the arm.

["Will, come on!"] Chris Ohlendorf exclaimed. Then he caught sight of Yuki and Yoshiko. His words stumbled to a stop in his mouth. Yuki thought certain that he was looking at her. She felt the heat of blood rushing to her cheeks. Her eyes darted self-consciously to the table. Only when he began speaking again did she look up. ["Um, we got to go."]

["Chris, I just got here!"] howled Will.

["Sorry. Doings at HQ. It's bad enough you're AWOL from the billet again. If they catch you AWOL again during this, they're going to lob you into the stockade for sure."]

Will expelled a frustrated sigh and that didn't need a translator for the two girls watching this scenario. He turned to Yoshiko and grasped her upper arms.

"Have to leaving," he told Yoshiko. "Command." The disappointment on Yoshiko's young face told him she'd understood enough.

["When see again?"] Yoshiko asked, suddenly fearing the answer.

Will Ohlendorf looked at her, wondering how to tell her. He turned suddenly to his brother.

["Tell her I don't know,"] he requested Chris to say, ["but that I will be back for her."] Chris nodded, then turned to Yoshiko.

"He doesn't know, Tanaka-San," Chris said. Yuki was startled to hear an American speak perfect Japanese, though with a conspicuous and strange accent. She found herself staring at his mouth as it formed the words foreign to it. She suddenly became fascinated with it. "But he will come back for you. That's a promise."

To punctuate the translation, Will leaned in and kissed Yoshiko passionately. This elicited more disapproving looks from the other patrons. Yuki just stared in awe. She could almost feel the ecstasy Yoshiko was experiencing just through her friend's body language. When he finally broke the embrace, Will scooped up his rifle and quickly headed out the door with Chris on his heels.

Yoshiko seemed to hover for a moment, then sank into her chair, the aura around her electric. Yuki stared at her in wonder.

"Yuki-chan," Yoshiko exclaimed breathlessly. "I want to spend the rest of my life with that man!"

Yuki could well understand why. She'd gotten goose-bumps just watching. But was it possible for Yoshiko to spend the rest of her life with this man? Or was her valued friend facing a possible future of heartbreak and sadness over an impossible love, a love that could never, ever be?

Continued in Chapter 4


	4. Rage Of An Island

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 4: "Rage Of An Island"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

At the small grocery shop Suichiro Mizuno ran, Suichiro was carrying in a box of fresh produce he had just purchased from a farmer. It was the last of the season and he hoped he could get by until produce could again make its way from Kobe, just as he hoped he'd be able to sell this shipment before it spoiled. He didn't know which was worse: The lack of supply from farmlands ravaged by loss of hands, fuel and incentive to grow, or the lack of customers in Tokyo who had money to purchase what goods he could get.

"Oh, the gods are certainly angry with us for failing the Emperor," he mumbled, setting down the crate next to a refrigeration unit he owned. With power finally restored to the shop, he could keep the produce fresher longer. Hopefully word would get out that he had fresh produce and bring customers back to his struggling business.

"Where did you want this crate, Mizuno-San?" asked Kentaro Kino. The humble man waited for Suichiro to give him instructions. Once he would have been the one giving Suichiro orders, but those days were gone. He was grateful that Mizuno had need of him this day. Though he was on call for the construction work in the northeast, they hadn't needed him today. It was another chance to earn a few yen and support his family.

"Find an empty shelf inside that walk-in cooler," Mizuno nodded to him. Kentaro did as he was instructed. Mizuno stopped to reflect on the ways of fate. A year ago someone like Kentaro Kino wouldn't have spoken to someone like him. Their paths wouldn't have crossed unless Mizuno had somehow gotten a ride in one of the motor vehicles Kino made. Now he worked for Mizuno. And, Suichiro had to admit, he found Kentaro Kino a very likeable fellow and not at all what he had expected someone from a background of wealth and success to be. The man wasn't afraid of work and had a very down-to-earth manner about him. "Maybe something good has managed to come from all of the misery we've gone through the last few years."

"Mizuno-San," Kino began, emerging from the cooler, "how is your wife doing?"

"Fine," Mizuno shrugged. Then he glanced over his shoulder to see if they were alone. "She's very irritable. I'm anxious for our baby to be born, just so she'll stop being cranky." He sighed. "But at the same time, I'm very nervous about bringing a baby into this world today."

"Will it be hard for you?"

"It's an expense I'd rather put off," Mizuno frowned. Then his mood softened. "But our ancestors survived and they had less than we did. We'll just have to find a way."

"I know the feeling," Kino nodded. "What are you hoping for?"

"I don't care, as long as it's healthy," Mizuno smiled wistfully. "I'm more concerned with the child's future. I want my child to have everything this modern world can provide. I want my child to be educated and forward-thinking." He glanced down in embarrassment. "I'm not an educated man. I consider myself blessed by the gods that I can read and count. I want my child to know everything I don't know." He sighed. "I have a feeling my child will need that education. Our generation has done so much to mess up this world. My child will have to be one of the ones to clean it up. Because I want a better life for my child." He glanced at Kino. "How about you? Any children?

"I want them," Kino shrugged. "But we're holding off. We can barely afford to feed ourselves. And things are such a mess. Maybe when the country has recovered and I can get back on my feet."

"It's really terrible what happened to you, Kino-San."

Kino nodded grimly. "It all seems like a dream now. It's a little hard to remember my old life and how much I had. Maybe that's a good thing." He smiled hopefully. "Hard times can't last forever, can they?"

"I hope not," Mizuno muttered. "But that's up to the will of the gods."

"Mizuno-San," exclaimed Kino, catching Mizuno's attention. "Look outside."

The shopkeeper looked. Military trucks were passing by the window: One, then two. Mizuno went and peered out of the door of his shop, with Kino peering over his shoulder. They were American military trucks, with a jeep leading the convoy. They seemed to be headed southwest. Before they disappeared around a building, Mizuno could see that the trucks were loaded with American troops.

"Do you suppose the Americans are leaving?" Mizuno asked. It was an unspoken hope, for the daily sight of the American occupation forces was a constant reminder of Japan's failure and humiliation.

"I doubt it," Kino commented. "That only looks like a platoon of soldiers. There are far too many American troops in Tokyo to fit in just two trucks."

"Where do you suppose they're going?" Mizuno asked. When no answer came, he glanced back at Kino. The man seemed concerned about something, but the concern had stilled his tongue. Seeing Mizuno looking at him loosened it.

"When I was working on the construction crew yesterday, I heard a story from another worker," Kino explained. "He had come to Tokyo from the southwest, near Hiroshima, because he feared the region was cursed when the Americans dropped the atomic bomb there. He told stories of men who had been torn to shreds, as if a giant animal had attacked them. The men were all members of the American occupation troops stationed at Hiroshima."

"A demon," nodded Suichiro Mizuno, his superstitious mind all too eager to believe in such things.

"A wounded animal, probably," Kino gently cautioned, "or a few peasants seeking revenge for the war years. Perhaps some loyalists to General Tojo and his group. Since the American troops are headed southwest, perhaps they've gotten wind of it and are investigating."

"I hope you're right," Mizuno replied thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want demons roaming Tokyo. The Americans are bad enough."

Crossing over to the cash box, Mizuno peeked in. A sick feeling came over him.

"Kino-San," he said, putting on a brave face, "I think I can handle it from here. But thank you for your help." He bowed to Kino. "I, um, am a little short of cash right now. Would it be acceptable to you if I let you pick out some of the produce we got in for yourself, instead of paying you?"

The question surprised Kino, but he recovered. "That will be fine, I guess," he nodded. Then he brightened. "I suppose I won't need money to buy food if you pay me in food. And the American relief supplies are very short of fresh produce. My wife will be happy tonight."

Mizuno softly sighed in relief.

* * *

Major Curtis Swanson was a ranking officer in the United States Army regiment that shared occupation duties in the Tokyo area with the Marine Corps. His office was in the old Imperial Music House. His duties mostly concerned overseeing the Military Police, whose job it was to keep both the Japanese nationals and the occupation forces under control, as well as to go through surviving military records of the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy, looking for evidence that could be used against former high ranking Japanese officers in future war crimes prosecutions. He was fifty-four, a career Army officer from Reno, Nevada, and was one droopy gray mustache short of looking like a grizzled gold prospector when out of uniform. A knock at his door took his attention away from the records he was reading.

"Major Swanson, Sir," his records clerk, Corporal Lance Atkinson said. "A Japanese priest is requesting a meeting with you, Sir."

"Concerning what?" Swanson asked.

"A missing relative who was an officer in the Japanese Navy. She hasn't been able to get any information on him from the Japanese government."

"She? They have women priests here? Backward country," muttered Swanson. He sighed. "Still, clergy is clergy. A little humanitarianism might go a long way to easing tensions in this place. Show her in, Corporal. I guess I should spare her a few minutes."

Sakura Ogami entered the room and Major Swanson was instantly struck by the confident dignity of the woman. She wore the white and blue robes of a Shinto priest. Her face was adorned with no makeup. Her black hair was long and gathered by a simple ribbon behind her head. But she seemed to embody everything that was noble about the human race, something Major Swanson had not been used to thinking about the Japanese in the last few years. After she entered, Ogami stopped for a moment and took the room in as if greeting an old memory.

"Is something wrong, Miss. . . um . . ." Swanson asked.

"Ogami," she replied in firm, yet delicate English. "It's just - - it's been years since I've been in this office."

"You were in the theater?" Swanson inquired.

"When I was a girl," Ogami told him, smiling wistfully. "This was General Yoneda's office. He was our . . .general manager."

"And now you're a priest? You've led a colorful life, Miss Ogami," Swanson commented. Sakura let the mangled honorific go. "Now how can the U.S. Army assist you?"

"I am looking for information on a Japanese naval officer," Ogami explained, "Commander Ichiro Ogami. I have not heard from him since April of this year."

"Relative of yours?"

"He is my husband," Sakura answered. That raised Swanson's eyebrows.

"You're married?" he asked. "And you're a priest?"

"It is permitted in my faith," Sakura responded.

"Yes, well," mumbled Swanson. "The Japanese Navy couldn't tell you anything while hostilities were still commenced?"

"No," Sakura said with a heavy heart. "The Imperial Navy would not speak to me." She noticed Swanson's inquiring look. "During the war, I was an outspoken critic of the military and of the war itself. Only my being a priest and - - some small status from my past kept me from being arrested by the government. But my stance earned me no friends within that government. So when I went to it, trying to find news on my husband when his letters stopped coming," and the priest swallowed the emotion creeping into her voice, "I was ignored."

Swanson stared at her, touched at once by how she maintained her dignity while emotion churned just underneath.

"Ogami, you say?" Swanson asked, scribbling the name down on a pad. "Do you know what unit he was attached to?"

"He commanded the Imperial Lotus Squadron," Sakura told him. "They were a fighter squadron initially formed to give fighter protection to Admiral Yamamoto's fleet."

"The Imperial Lotus Squadron?" Swanson exclaimed, then gave a low whistle. "I know some buddies in the Army Air Corps who talked about the Imperial Lotus Squadron. Those were some tough mon. . ." and Swanson glanced quickly at Ogami, "um, pilots."

"My husband would be honored by your respect, Major," Sakura said.

"But I don't know of any fighter missions conducted by the Japanese in 1945," Swanson frowned. "By then, all of their air missions had been converted to kamikaze missions, hadn't they?"

Sakura expelled a nervous breath. "I don't know. I've heard some stories. The Japanese civilians heard little hard news concerning the war and I heard even less." She steeled herself. "It's possible that my husband was sent on a kamikaze mission. But I don't know. I don't know if he died or was lost or was captured or is lying in some hospital somewhere, unable to tell anyone who he is. Can you help me, Major?" The woman's emotion filled the room.

"I'll try," Swanson nodded. "You say you last heard from him in April of this year?" The priest nodded. "That would be right about the time of the Battle Of Okinawa. That's as good a place as any to start. Is there some place where I can reach you if I do find something? I'm not saying I will. Records from the past year have been pretty spotty. And we're still debriefing prisoners and detainees."

"I am at this address," she said, writing it down under the name on the pad. "It is the shrine I maintain." She rose up from the chair. "I will be greatly indebted to you for anything you can tell me." And she bowed to him, then turned and left the room. Major Swanson leaned back in his chair.

"Wow," he said softly in astonishment. "Who knew a five foot tall woman could have THAT much presence?"

* * *

On the road between Osaka and Kobe, PFC. William Ohlendorf glanced out the back of the troop truck he and his platoon were riding in. They had been driving for several hours and the boredom in the truck was thick enough to cut with a bayonet. The terrain was much different from that of Tokyo. Here the two lane road cleaved rolling fields of winter wheat and the climate was much more tolerable than Tokyo to the northeast. In a way, it was very reminiscent of his farm home southwest of Mankato, Minnesota, in the early fall. If it weren't for the occasional farmhouse and the Japanese architecture that was so radically different from his homeland, he could almost let himself believe he was back there.

It was a welcome sensation. Since his induction a year and a half ago, Will Ohlendorf had seen things that nothing in his rural life could had ever prepared him for: Accelerated basic training, followed by a troop ship to Hawaii, another to Saipan. After his regiment had helped capture Saipan, it was on to Iwo Jima. It still bothered him to think about those days. If it wasn't for the Christian teachings of his mother, drilling into his head things like the brotherhood of man and how the devout follower of Jesus forgave, he would have advocated dropping enough atomic bombs on the island of Japan to sink it into the sea. But she was right. Glancing out the back of the troop truck told him that.

And thinking about Yoshiko told him his mother was right. If it hadn't been for her, he might have let the memories of Saipan and Iwo Jima embitter him toward the Japanese. It was as if God had put them together to keep him from sinking into the quagmire of hatred that had claimed some of his buddies. There was something special about Yoshiko Tanaka that set her apart from every woman he had ever known. He had already filed the paperwork with the unit Chaplain for permission to marry her and take her back to Minnesota.

The truck stopped and Will snapped into battle mode along with the rest of his platoon. Veterans all of Iwo Jima, some of Saipan, and some even farther back than that, they hopped out of the back of the truck and gathered around their platoon Lieutenant. That's when they saw the supply trucks. Three trucks were in the ditch by the side of the road. One was on its side. Another had the engine block caved in, as if it had struck a hundred year oak head on. But there were no trees in the area.

"Here's the mission," Lieutenant Graves informed them. He had been with them at Iwo, too. "At 15:40 hours yesterday, a three truck supply convoy returning from the Hiroshima bomb site was attacked. The nine man contingent were killed and the trucks scuttled. There were no supplies to take, though the attackers may not have known that."

"You think it's locals?" one man piped up.

"It's possible," Graves replied. "Command thinks the more likely possibility is loyalist insurgents. These men weren't just killed. They were torn to shreds."

An ominous silence passed through the platoon.

"Like an animal?" another marine asked.

"It would have to be a big animal," Graves answered. "Command has become aware of a traditional weapon used by Japanese farmers and peasants. It is a round handle that fits over the hand and has three metal prongs that extend forward and are curved at the end. It's intended use is to till and weed soil. But the prongs can cause such wounds as the men in this convoy suffered if properly honed."

"Damn Jap bastards," grunted a Marine. Will knew him from both Iwo Jima and Saipan. His name was Gary Woodbridge and had been in the South Pacific since Guam.

"This incident is not the first report Command has received of American troops being attacked and killed in this manner. There have been two other incidents between Kobe and Hiroshima. It is likely we are dealing with a group of insurgents. You Marines will fan out in groups of four and search for any evidence of insurgency, for anyone possessing an instrument like the one I described to you, or for anyone who might know what occurred here."

"And put a slug between their slanty eyes," muttered Woodbridge.

"NEGATIVE!" barked Graves. "Any local found in possession of one of these instruments or any local determined to be acting in a suspicious manner is to be apprehended and brought back for interrogation. If you take fire, you may respond in kind. You WILL NOT, under penalty of court martial, initiate hostile action! IS THAT CLEAR?"

Amid some grumbling, there was grunted assent.

"Divide them up and send them out, Sergeant," Graves said to the platoon leader, Master Sergeant Dino Castillini. Instantly Castillini moved in and had his platoon divided up and sent on their way.

Crossing through a field of winter wheat in a leisurely north direction, Will and three other Marines, including Corporal Woodbridge, held their rifles across their chests and at the ready. They were alert for any movement, any sign of danger. This might be a more placid terrain than the sulphurous Hell that had been Iwo Jima. But the attacked convoy had proven that it wasn't any safer.

"Two points," muttered Woodbridge as they swept the field for anyone hiding there. "Two lousy points away from finally being rotated back to the States and I'm out here sticking my neck out again so some crazy Jap bastard can chop it off."

"If the C-O hadn't caught you with that still on Saipan, you'd already be mustered out," one of the other Marines, Sid Koslowski, cracked.

"Give me one of those 'Ronsons' like we had in Iwo and I bet I could clean this whole area out," Woodbridge claimed. "Burn the whole area down to the ground and every Jap with it."

"That would be a waste," Will shot back.

"Of what? Wheat?" snapped Woodbridge. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Ohley's sweet on that Nip jailbait back in Tokyo."

"Up yours, Woodbridge!" Will growled. "You're talking about the girl I'm going to marry!"

"Ha!" Woodbridge laughed. "Good luck with your mongrel babies, Ohley!"

Just then a piercing scream echoed over the farmland. The company turned as one toward the sound. Shots rang out.

"Over there!" Koslowski pointed in the direction of the company who had headed east.

Instantly the four Marines were on the run, racing through the wheat field toward the sound. As they ran, four more shots rang out. They were easily identifiable as shots from a Marine-issue rifle. As the four Marines ran, their eyes darted back and forth for some sign of where the insurgent ambush was, for that was their assumption. If they were lucky, they could spot the insurgents, flank them and mow them down. If they were really lucky, they wouldn't run blindly into their enemy's midst and be shot down.

Then a sound cleaved the air and made the four Marines stop dead in their tracks. It was a sound like no sound they had ever heard before. Will likened it to the sound he'd heard in a sawmill back in Mankato, the blade ripping through a huge wood log. But it was louder, more guttural, like it was emanating from the throat of some great gigantic beast. Koslowski was the first to resume his charge. That spurred Woodbridge and that in turn brought Ford and Ohlendorf out of their stupors. The company could hear nothing now, save the rustling of some wheat further ahead. Was it the insurgents escaping through the field on the other side of the road? Was it one of the other Marine companies? Or was it something else?

Entering a clearing where some wheat stalks had been trampled down, the Marines found them. It was the company that had headed east - - at least that was Will's best guess. Four Marines had been torn apart like paper dolls. Heads and limbs were everywhere. Clothing and the bodies beneath were slashed. Blood was everywhere. They all just stared.

"What the Hell?" screamed Woodbridge. He plunged through the wheat and emerged on the road about twenty feet away. "WHAT THE HELL!" he raged.

Will continued to stare. He thought he'd seen it all on Iwo Jima. But the carnage on Iwo Jima had been man-made. No man had done this. Nothing human could have done this.

Continued in Chapter 5


	5. Under A Bitter Moon

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 5: "Under A Bitter Moon"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

They sat in the café where just three days ago his brother kissed her friend with enough passion that the walls still vibrated from it. Chris Ohlendorf had gone there to meet Yoshiko Tanaka as a favor to his brother Will. Yuki Saboru had also gone to the café looking for Yoshiko. Instead they found each other and decided to wait for her together. They were the oddest of odd couples in the place: Him, twenty and resplendent in his Marine uniform, as hopelessly out of place there as if he were a twenty ton blue whale; her, sixteen and dressed in her school uniform of white blouse and blue pinafore, the picture of Japanese educational conformity. While they waited, they began to talk, since Chris was fluent in Japanese. And as they talked, they began to learn about one another and like what they learned.

"Yeah, languages have always come easily to me," Chris nodded. "It only took me about six months to learn Japanese. I also know Mandarin, German and French. That's why I'm assigned to Operations Linguistics."

"Do many Americans know Japanese?" Yuki asked.

"Maybe in California," he shrugged. Yuki stared at him when he talked. He was so boyish and cute. "I'm probably the only one from Minnesota. But I started learning them so I could help the war effort." He grinned. "I figured being a linguistics translator would be a valuable skill in the service, and I'd be less likely to have someone shooting at me."

"Very wise," Yuki smiled. Chris noticed how radiant her face was when she smiled. Her cheeks dimpled and her eyes squinted in such a beautiful way. Will was right - - Japanese girls were as different from American girls as could be.

"So what are you studying in school?" Chris prodded. "Do you have any plans or ambitions?"

"Well," Yuki hesitated, "assuming life ever returns to normal here - - I've thought about becoming a nurse. I think it's a career my father would approve of."

"Is it what you want to do?" Chris asked.

"It's a fine career," Yuki responded. "I think I could succeed at it and it would be very fulfilling."

"But there's something you'd like to do that your father wouldn't approve of?"

Yuki's chest heaved, out of anxiety more than frustration.

"Ogami-Sensei has told me stories of her days as an actress," Yuki admitted. "I've often wondered what that would be like." She clouded over. "But my father would never approve. And I probably wouldn't be any good anyway."

"You know, Saboru-San, it's your life, not your father's," Chris told her earnestly. "Look at Will. He wants to take Tanaka-San home to Minnesota. Now I know what that's going to be like when he shows her off to Ma and Pa. I know Pa won't approve and I doubt Ma will either. But he doesn't care. He's always done what he wants."

"Perhaps that's the way it is in America," Yuki said, looking down forlornly. "It's different here. To dishonor my parents so is just not done. I mean no disrespect for your brother. His way is fine for him."

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," Chris said, hunching his shoulders and craning his neck so he was back in her field of vision. "I mean no disrespect for your ways. And I don't mean to say anything that robs the world of that beautiful smile of yours."

Yuki felt herself blush. Just then Yoshiko rushed in.

"Ohley-San!" she gasped, running over to their table. "Where is Will? I haven't seen him for three days!"

"Sit down," Chris advised her. Yoshiko took a chair, eyes fixed on him, feeling her insides trembling every second. "That's why I'm here. I've been trying to contact you. Will's under, well, medical quarantine I guess."

"Is he hurt?" Yoshiko cried.

"No. Well, not physically," Chris tried to explain. "It's kind of screwy to me, too. Will's platoon went out on a mission to check on possible insurgent activity. When they got back, every surviving member of the platoon was put under - - well, psychiatric evaluation. They've been that way for three days now."

"Psychiatric evaluation?" Yuki asked incredulously. "What happened?"

"That's the screwy part," Chris related. "I don't know. I never got the chance to talk to Will before they locked them all away. I figured you'd want to know, so I came to tell you."

The two teens stared at him in shock. Yuki reached over and put her arms around her friend. Given Yoshiko's recent past, Yuki felt the girl didn't need another tragedy in her life.

* * *

As he walked down the street carrying a fifty pound sack of rice balanced on his shoulder, Gon Narita couldn't help but notice how different life in Tokyo was now. On the one hand, he could never have openly carried a sack of rice a mere five months ago without being beset by starving residents trying to beg or steal what he had. But there was a shift in attitude from five months ago, too. Then, everyone wondered how much longer they would have to sacrifice until Japan emerged victorious. Now, so many still walked around in a daze, some wondering how the chosen people of a god walking on Earth could have been defeated, while others wondered just how much of what their government had told them over the last decade had been lies. Still others were angry or despondent that their long sacrifice had been for nothing. Their stomachs might be better off, but it was at the cost of their national pride.

And there was the fear that everyone held inside of them, wondering what lay ahead for them. Would they be a vassal state to the United States and Great Britain? Would the Chinese invade out of revenge for what had been done to them in the thirties? And the more learned among them felt the Soviet Union staring down at them from the north, licking their lips in anticipation of the Americans leaving.

"Oh, the hungry bear, he wants to eat me," Gon sang as he walked. "But I'll piss in his stomach if he catches me."

Gon was in what was once the wealthier section of Tokyo. This was where businessmen and government officials had lived. Some of the homes were burned to the ground by the American firebombing raids. Others were abandoned, their occupants either killed or fled. The homes that remained were scarred by the debris of war and the inability of the owners to keep them up. But some of the residents clung to what they had, either out of a stubborn belief that they could reclaim the life they had, or out of simple necessity because they had no where else to go.

Once such home was the Nomimura residence. Once the Education Minister for the city, Nomimura was now shunned and discredited as a willing member of the previous administration. When Gon had asked directions to the home on his first visit, he'd received bitter diatribes against the man from several people. Even some of his neighbors no longer wanted anything to do with him. But Gon thought perhaps a little kindness might be able to bridge the gap and rehabilitate a once productive, intelligent man back into Japanese society. Despite his political leanings, Nomimura was one of the intellectuals of the old society and smart minds were needed now more than ever.

Plus it gave Gon another chance to visit Nomimura's twenty year old daughter, Kasumi. Since meeting her, the priest-in-training had thought about her nearly every moment he was awake and dreamed about her at night. Even Ogami-Sensei had scoffed, thinking it was just another infatuation. Gon admitted that he was easily infatuated by women, but this ran deeper. Kasumi Nomimura was a goddess walking on Earth. If he could convince her to walk by his side, his would indeed be a blessed life.

Then he turned a corner and there she was, carrying a small bag with some vegetables. She jumped back a pace, startled, then recognized the moon-faced man.

"Narita-Sensei," she twittered. "How nice to see you again." Her long black hair fell down her back, framing porcelain skin, a small mouth and demure eyes. She was almost like a china doll.

"Nomimura-San," he bowed. "Were you headed home? Let me escort you."

"Why thank you, Sensei," she smiled and Gon felt his heart skip. "That sack looks very heavy. Were you bringing food to some unfortunate? You're such a kind man."

"A man's worth is not measured by the coins in his purse, but by the kindness he shows others," Gon replied. He'd made that proverb up himself and was quite proud of it. "As a matter of fact, I was bringing it to your family, if you'll accept it."

"So much! Narita-San, are you sure?" gasped Kasumi. Then she noticed the writing on the sack. "Is that rice from the American relief? I don't think my father will accept it."

"I'm not ready to believe that your father will allow his political beliefs to interfere with the survival of his family. I know it's been rough on you." Gon saw that Kasumi remained unconvinced. "And if it comes to it, I could very easily disguise the markings so he doesn't know."

"Why Narita-San, you're very devious," smirked Kasumi. "Are you certain you're a priest?"

"That's what my Master keeps asking," Gon joked and they both enjoyed a good laugh.

"Well no matter the outcome, I do thank you for all the interest you've taken in my family's welfare," Kasumi said. "After the last few months, it's been nice to experience some kindness."

"I'm happy to do it, Nomimura-San, both for your father and mother's sake, and for you," Gon replied earnestly.

"Kasumi," they heard a voice call. Looking down the street, they saw the elder Nomimura standing at the gate to their home. He waited until they were near him to continue. "Go up to the house and help your mother."

Nodding, the girl left. Nomimura turned his attention to Gon. The man was tall and wiry, with thick black frame glasses and a pencil mustache. His thick black hair was combed back. Nomimura came across as very authoritarian, as many school administrators were. He dissected Gon with his stare.

"You've been here a lot recently," Nomimura observed. He nodded to the sack. "Who is the rice for?"

"Your family, if you'll do me the honor of accepting it," Gon replied with good spirits.

"American rice? I wouldn't have it in my house."

"It tastes just the same as Japanese rice," God prodded. "It's very tasty and filling, and not at all poisoned."

"You expect me to accept food from my enemy?" bristled Nomimura.

"No. You'll be accepting it from me," smiled Gon. "And I pray I'm not your enemy." Nomimura was not amused.

"We don't need your charity," he replied gruffly.

"It isn't charity," Gon persisted. "It's fellow Japanese helping each other in hard times, so we may all be here to enjoy the good times together. Please accept it, for your loving wife and daughter if for no other reason."

"Hmph," snorted Nomimura. "I know why you've been hanging around here. Do you think you can buy my daughter's affections? Do you think we've sunk that low?"

"Nomimura-San," Gon began very seriously, "I would be lying if I said I didn't find your daughter quite beautiful and utterly charming. Her wonderful smile is something I find myself needing more and more each day. But everything else I've told you is true as well. I'm just trying to do my part to help our community weather this period. We're in our winter now, but together we can see the spring come again."

"You're wasting your time," Nomimura scowled. "There are others far less well off than my family. We don't need your help." He started to leave, but turned back. "And you can leave my daughter alone, too. She's already promised to another."

The gate closed in Gon's face, but he didn't hear it. All he heard was Nomimura's final words, over and over in his brain.

* * *

Yuki Saboru and Yoshiko Tanaka ambled down the street, chattering away like the old days before the firebombing of Tokyo. They were an odd couple to passers by. Yuki wore her white blouse, blue pinafore and patent leather shoes with the white socks, making her look younger than her sixteen years. Yoshiko was dressed like the long lost Japanese cousin of Joan Crawford, making her look older than her sixteen years. Though their paths had diverged for a while, now they were back to being best friends, surrogate sisters, confessionals and sounding boards.

"I wish there was some news about Will," Yoshiko sighed as they walked. "They won't let me see him at the American headquarters and nobody will tell me anything. I don't want to just wait and worry and wonder, but it's all I can do!"

"So you really do love him?" Yuki asked.

"Yes," Yoshiko replied, a bit of a smile forcing its way through her anguish. "Yuki-Chan, I've never met anyone like him. He's so strong and brave, and yet he's so much fun, too."

"You know he killed people, don't you?" Yuki ventured. "Japanese soldiers."

Yoshiko grew solemn. "I know. He's a soldier. It's his job. He was fighting for his country, just like the Imperial Army was fighting for ours. He didn't like having to do it. But they would have killed him if he hadn't."

"He told you this?"

"He brought it up. It doesn't matter to me. I don't care what he did on Iwo Jima. But he wanted to explain - - because he thought it would matter to me. And he wanted to make sure I still liked him."

Yuki nodded. "So, have you and he . . . done . . ." Yuki stammered.

"It's kind of how we met, remember?" Yoshiko responded cynically. "You knew that. Why are you asking? Are you thinking about it?"

Yuki didn't answer, but Yoshiko could read her plainly.

"With Will's brother?" Yoshiko asked. Yuki stared at her in shock.

"How did you know?" she gasped.

"I saw the way you were looking at him," smirked Yoshiko. "Given how much he looks like Will, I can understand the attraction. Are you?"

The girl sighed. "My father would disown me if I lost my virginity before my wedding."

"That's too bad," Yoshiko said sympathetically. "But I guess that's what fathers are here for. No sense courting trouble."

"Yeah, you don't have that problem anymore," Yuki nodded, then realized what she'd said. "Oh, Yoshiko-Chan, I'm so sorry!"

"I know," Yoshiko nodded, patting her friend's arm. "I do still think about him and Mom. But they're no longer here to guide me, so I have to choose my own path." They walked on a little further. "Do you think your father would object to you dating Chris Ohlendorf?"

"Sometimes I think he'd object to me dating anyone," Yuki lamented.

"Then if he's going to object no matter what you do, you should do what you want," prodded Yoshiko. "I can set you two up."

"I don't know," fretted Yuki.

"Go out a few times," Yoshiko told her. "If you don't like him, at least he's out of your system. If you fall in love with him, you can marry him and then your father can't object to Chris-Kun making a woman out of you."

"But where will we go? What will we do? I'd have to be home early or Papa will know I'm . . ."

"Skip a day of school," suggested Yoshiko. Yuki's eyes popped. "I know how good of a student you are. You can miss a day here and there. And the school's probably not going to report it because things in Tokyo are so chaotic now they won't even notice it." She saw her friend was not convinced. "Yuki, the war taught me that we may not be here tomorrow, so we might as well live for today." Yuki still didn't respond. "If you want me to set you up, let me know. I'll be seeing a lot of Chris-Kun until they release Will. I can do it any time."

"I'll think about it," Yuki replied. Just then both girls saw they were in sight of Yuki's home. Yuki's father was by the gate, waiting for her.

"See you again tomorrow?" Yoshiko asked as she withdrew. Yuki nodded, beaming.

As she approached her father, Yuki could see the worried look on his face. Her father, a rough and tumble laborer on the Tokyo shipping docks, tried to give his daughter a smile, but she could see cracks in his exterior.

"Who was that you were with?" he asked as they headed for the house.

"Yoshiko Tanaka," Yuki responded. "She used to be in the same class as me."

"Pretty odd dress for a student," her father observed. Yuki swallowed.

"She doesn't go to school anymore," Yuki admitted. "Her parents were killed in the war."

"So she lives on the street?" he asked. "As a Pan-Pan Girl?"

"She doesn't have any other way," Yuki alibied.

"Yuki-Chan," her father began, "maybe you shouldn't be seen with her anymore."

"Papa, she's not a criminal!" howled Yuki.

"Maybe it's not a crime, but it's not the kind of person you should be associating with," he persisted. "I sympathize with her situation. This war has put a lot of people in desperate situations. But you have a future to think about. Being around people like her can harm your reputation. And she can put tempting ideas into your head that can lead to difficulties you're not old enough to handle."

"Papa, that's a terrible thing to say!" Yuki protested.

"Perhaps, but it's also pragmatic. We have to think like that these days." Yuki was about to protest again. "Yuki-Chan, I am still your father. Please do not fight me on this. In the future, you'll look back and see why I was so cautious with you."

The girl looked down. "Yes, Papa," she said with little feeling. Her father's heart went out to her. She might think him unfair now, but she'd learn to respect his wisdom.

But as Yuki headed for her bedroom to change, her decision to take Yoshiko up on her offer was galvanizing within her.

Continued in Chapter 6


	6. Friends And Enemies

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 6: "Friends And Enemies"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

In the United States Marine Corps Occupation Force mess hall, Chris and Will Ohlendorf sat across from each other at the table. It had been six weeks since Will and his fellow platoon members had been released from medical observation. Chris observed his brother. Though all outward appearances were normal, Chris sensed something was still different about his brother ever since the incident outside of Kobe. For one thing, he still wasn't eating as voraciously as Chris always remembered him.

"You still thinking about what happened outside of Kobe?" Chris ventured. Will shot him a curious look.

"What's to think about?" scowled the blond young man. "Me and the guys were suffering from a mass hallucination brought about by a stressful situation and combat fatigue. That's what the doc told our C/O." He took an angry bite of food. "At least it's gotten us out of patrol missions, but I don't want to get out of the Marines on a section eight. Hell, I've practically got my points now. A section eight would just screw over my service record."

"You still haven't told me what you saw," Chris persisted. "Maybe if you got it off your chest, you'd feel better."

"I thought you were in Linguistics," snorted Will. "You transfer to the medical corps now? You know how to help us real fighting Marines?"

"Don't have to be a doctor to help," Chris dead-panned. "Especially if it's some Minnesota farm boy who'd probably think clearer if a cow kicked him in his head." Will didn't respond. "Hey, why not tell me just to satisfy my curiosity. I've been dying to know what happened for weeks."

Will grew very serious. "We didn't really see it, Chris," he began. "We heard it, felt it. It was a blur. Those Marines were all chewed up - - cut up like somebody had fed them to a thresher."

"That'd be enough to put anyone off of their feed," sympathized Chris.

"It wasn't the bodies," Will shook his head. "I've seen bodies broken up and cut up as bad as that in Iwo and Saipan before that. You've never seen what a twelve inch shell will do to a human body if it direct hits. I have. You get numb to it after a while. This was - - knowing something was there, feeling it, sensing it, knowing you can't fight it." Will stared at the table for a few moments. "And I think I saw something disappear into the wheat. A tail, maybe. It was pointed and scaly, like a lizard, but it was big as a man." The memory broke and Will snorted again. "When I told that to the C/O, he looked at me like I wasn't right in the head. Command won't listen. They still think it's insurgents with gardening tools."

"Maybe not anymore," Chris replied. Will shot him another curious look. "Scuttlebutt around headquarters is there have been four more attacks since your mission. Command is trying to keep it under wraps, but the talk is they're the same M.O. as the attacks in Hiroshima and Kobe."

"Yeah? Why don't they think it's insurgents anymore?"

"No evidence, for one," Chris told him. "Plus the country folk are scared. If it was insurgents, you'd think some of them would at least be happy about it. But the country folk are all scared stiff."

"So what do they know?" Will asked.

"As far as I've heard, two things," Chris answered. "One, whatever this is only targets American G.I.s. Two, if this thing keeps on its path, it's headed for Tokyo."

* * *

The canisters of heating fuel were heavy, but Gon Narita tried to ignore the weight. His Master, Ogami-Sensei had sent him on this errand and he wasn't going to complain. Part of an apprenticeship was running menial errands for one's master. It taught the novitiate discipline and the virtue of hard work.

For the last six weeks Gon Narita had thrown himself into his work and his study. He'd avoided looking at pretty women, because they reminded him of Kasumi Nomimura. He'd avoided his weekly chats with his friend, Futabara Hino, because eventually he would think of Kasumi Nomimura. He had avoided all of his usual haunts and activities to avoid being reminded of Kasumi Nomimura. Thinking of Kasumi Nomimura, and more specifically how she was forever denied him because she loved another man, only made his heart ache. Dedicating himself to becoming a wise priest would replace the hole Kasumi Nomimura had left in his heart. Then he stopped.

"You're thinking about her now," he sighed helplessly. "By the gods, I can't even pray her away. I wonder if this is karma for all of the pretty women I ogled? If the god I angered is listening, I didn't mean any harm."

As he trudged on, he absently passed the little café where he and his friend Hino would debate philosophy, current events, life in general and anything else they could disagree about. Futabara Hino was himself the son of a priest and set to take over the shrine his father maintained. Though he and Gon were opposites in everything from physical appearance to entrenched beliefs, they were close friends and enjoyed each others company. Today, though, Gon was so preoccupied with not thinking about Kasumi Nomimura that he failed to notice he was taking one of his usual routes, and that Hino sitting at their favorite table.

"Narita," Hino called out. "Narita! Over here!"

That pulled Gon out of his tunnel vision. He looked and saw his friend. For a moment he considered walking on, for he didn't really want to talk to anyone. But he went over, deciding that it would be rude not to.

"It's been a while, Narita. Ogami-Sensei have you hopping?" chuckled Hino. "Sit down, please. I have some wonderful news and I'm bursting to share it with you."

"I could use some good news," Gon mumbled. He looked his friend over. It was hard to miss how happy he was. It was good somebody had some good news.

"Narita, I'm engaged to be married!" Hino beamed. "My father is performing the ceremony. I don't think I've seen him prouder than when I asked him. And such a wonderful woman I'm lucky enough to have found. We've been seeing each other for a few months now. I was afraid this terrible war and the aftermath was going to force us to wait, but . . ."

Hino stopped and noticed through his euphoria the mood his friend was in. All thoughts of his happiness evaporated.

"Narita? You look so unhappy. Has something happened? Is that why you haven't been around lately?"

The squat priest didn't want to talk about it. This wasn't like debating philosophy.

"I apologize for not seeing it sooner," Hino offered. "I've been going on and on about me and didn't notice your mood at all. Is it something I can help with? Please tell me."

"Nothing you can help with," Gon said. "I. . .well. . .there's this woman."

Diplomatically Hino refrained from commenting.

"You know I yield to no man in my appreciation of the marvelous gift the gods made to man by presenting us with women," Gon continued. "But I met a woman - - someone unlike any woman I've ever known could exist. I. . .Hino, I fell for her in an instant, and only grew to love her more every time I was with her."

"She didn't feel the same?" Hino asked gently.

"She loves another."

"I'm sorry, Narita. I know it means little now, but this shall pass."

"Ogami-Sensei counseled the same thing," Gon replied. "It's probably true. But for now, I feel like I'm at the bottom of a well and I have no way to climb out."

"You just need time, Narita," Hino suggested.

"Yes, but time moves so slowly at times like this."

A melodic voice called out Hino's name. Both men turned to it. It was a woman headed their way, elegant of face and figure, dressed in a stylish kimono that was so rare in these hard times. They both stood up out of good manners. Hino's face lit up, delighted to see his fiancé approaching. Gon, though, froze, his mind beginning to swirl. The woman was Kasumi Nomimura. The couple reached out and grasped hands affectionately.

Then she turned to him.

"Narita-San!" she exclaimed happily. "It's been so long since I've seen you. I hope my father didn't frighten you away. Have you been well?"

A hundred emotions swirled around inside of Gon Narita. When he didn't answer right away, Hino turned and looked at him.

"Yes," Gon answered, trying to sound like he wasn't about to break down. "Forgive me. I've - - been busy. I'll be going now. I have a lot of work to get done - - and I'm certain you two would like to be alone." He stooped and picked up the fuel canisters. "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding."

Gon turned and walked away, forcing himself to maintain a steady pace. Hino stared after him, sick to his stomach. Though his bride-to-be hadn't realized what had just occurred, he had.

* * *

"So, little brother," Will Ohlendorf exclaimed, draping his arm over the shoulder of his brother Chris, "how's business been today? Translate any vital Jap secrets?"

They were in the hall between offices in the headquarters command had set up in the Imperial Music Hall. A passing corporal glanced at the two Marines and walked on.

"How many times have I told you to knock off that 'little brother' stuff!" groused Chris. "I was born twelve minutes after you."

"Yeah, yeah," Will waved off. "Anything happening on your end of the occupation? I'm so bored right now I could bend my bayonet with my teeth."

"Nah," Chris sighed. "During the war, I was translating intercepted dispatches from the Japanese Fleet. Now I'm translating complaints from the locals. 'This Marine stole some fruit from my shop. That soldier got drunk and fell asleep in my decorative pond.' I mean, there are serious cases here and there, but it's mostly petty stuff." He glanced out a nearby window onto the bustling street below, for the streets of Tokyo always seemed to be bustling. "I wish I could slip out and see Yuki."

"I have to laugh," Will chuckled. "When I started up with Yoshiko, you were the one warning me about getting involved with a local."

"Well, you always were a bad influence on me. Just ask Mom," Chris grinned. Then the man sobered. "I wish we could come out and admit we're going together. I hate sneaking around. But the Corps would probably have me court-martialed. And if they didn't, her father would probably shoot me." He sighed. "I want to take her out, Will. Show her the town. Show her off to everybody."

"You worry too much about that stuff, Chris," Will told him. "The brass aren't going to court-martial you. The worst they'll do is give you a lecture - - restrict you to base." He glanced at his brother. "Of course, her father will probably shoot you if he finds out you're screwing his daughter."

"You're a big help," scowled Chris.

"Got a message you want Yoshiko to pass along?" Will asked.

"I'm on duty for the next three afternoons, and that's the only time we can see each other," Chris said. "I guess, have Yoshiko tell her I love her and I'll try to see her on Friday."

"Corporal Ohlendorf!" a voice called from down the hall. They turned and found Major Swanson at the office door at the end of the hall.

"Sir!" Chris replied. Both he and Will came to attention.

"Come here," Swanson said. "I've got a situation that needs your assistance."

"Yes, Sir," Chris answered, hurrying off. Will watched him go, then turned and began making plans on how he would sneak off to be with Yoshiko this time.

* * *

Uiji Saboru entered the doctor's office with unconcealed trepidation. His wife had called thirty minutes ago, telling him that Yuki was sick and needed to go to the doctor. Uiji had immediately gotten leave from the foreman at the dock and rushed over. During the trip his mind had flooded with a thousand possibilities as to what could have happened to his dear daughter. Disease was still a problem in the city. The infrastructure was still being repaired and there were so many unfortunates who lacked proper food or shelter, unfortunates who Yuki might have come in contact with and caught something from. Then there were the bomb craters and the burned out homes that still stood, and every week it seemed another unexploded shell was found. Yuki could have been attacked by some desperate street person. She could have run afoul of the American military and been shot. And there were the stories the government had told them all, too. He tried to calm himself as he approached the woman at the desk.

"I'm the father of Yuki Saboru," he said.

"Ah," the woman said, rising from her desk. "Please wait here a moment, Saboru-San. I'll tell the doctor you're here." She bowed to him and disappeared into an inner office.

Saboru glanced around. There were three other people waiting: A young woman with bandages on the side of her face and her left arm, a burn victim no doubt; an elderly man who had periodic coughing spells; and a fairly well along pregnant woman. The last image lingered in Saboru's brain. To bring a child into the world when it was in this shape? Of course, one couldn't plan these things, but he didn't envy the woman the task she had ahead of her.

"Saboru-San?" he heard and turned.

Dr. Nakamura was in his forties, with thick black glasses, prematurely graying hair, a prematurely graying face and a thin mustache that was dashing once. He had been the family physician for twelve years. The man gestured Saboru into the office. Yuki was sitting on an examination table, looking miserable. Her mother was standing next to her, trying to be supportive.

"What's happened to Yuki, Sensei?" Saboru asked anxiously.

"Well, the bouts of sickness can be easily explained by her condition, Saboru-San," Dr. Nakamura began. Then he hesitated, gripped suddenly by the magnitude of the situation. "Yuki-Chan is pregnant. Probably at least five weeks along at minimum."

Yuki looked like she was about to burst into tears. Her mother sagged a little, but it seemed like she suspected this was the explanation. Uiji suddenly felt like someone had struck him with a motor car. All the strength washed out of his body and all of his conscious thought left him, save for that single word - - pregnant.

Then he looked at his daughter. Her eyes met his and the accusations and recriminations all passed wordlessly between them. He saw his wife grip his daughter's shoulders protectively. He saw the terror in his daughter's eyes. She was afraid of what her future held for her, afraid of having to give up all of her hopes and dreams and ambitions, of having to give up the rest of her childhood and become something she didn't have the slightest concept of how to become. And she was afraid of him, of how he would react, of being hated, of being condemned, of being rejected. And no matter how much Uiji Saboru wanted to yell and scream and curse the gods and break everything within reach, then use the pieces to beat to death the lowlife dog who got his little girl pregnant, he choked it back.

"Who is he, Yuki?" Saboru asked, struggling to keep himself rational for her sake.

"Papa, I'm sorry!" Yuki whimpered. Tears were streaming down her face. Saboru suddenly felt supremely embarrassed for Dr. Nakamura for being forced to see this.

"It's done," Saboru sighed. "Who is he?"

Yuki didn't answer. She just looked down, trembling.

"Yuki, answer your father," his wife gently prodded.

"I," she began, stress robbing her of her voice. "I-I don't know."

"You don't know?" Saboru repeated incredulously. "What do you mean you don't know?"

Yuki didn't answer. She just wished everything would just go away. But her father didn't go away. He just stood there, waiting for an answer. And she knew she couldn't tell him the truth.

"I," she began again, refusing to look at anyone.

"Were you raped?" asked Dr. Nakamura. And like a drowning woman grasping at a life preserver, Yuki nodded. Her mother gasped and wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"Do you know by who?" Saboru asked, trying to be as gentle and sympathetic as he could be. "What did he look like?"

"I don't know," whimpered Yuki. "It was dark. I couldn't see."

"Was he Japanese?" her father persisted. "Was it one of the Americans?"

But Yuki only sobbed. Helplessly, Saboru turned away. Dr. Nakamura came over to him.

"Sensei?" he asked.

"It's possible. If it happened a month or so ago, all of the outer signs would have healed," Nakamura explained. "Besides, you know the government warned us this could happen. They said we wouldn't be safe from the American soldiers. I admit it hasn't happened to the extent they feared it would. But it has happened. I've heard of cases. Just two months ago a woman over in Minato-Ku . . ."

Saboru reached into his pocket and pulled out some currency. He stuffed the bills into the doctor's hand. Then he turned to his wife and sobbing daughter.

"Take her home," he told his wife. "Make her as comfortable as possible. Make sure she does everything the doctor tells her to do."

"Where are you going?" his wife asked.

"To the American military offices," he replied, barely containing his fury. "If one of their soldiers did this to my daughter, I intend to see that he pays. I don't care if we are defeated. I will see that he pays."

Continued in Chapter 7


	7. The Looming Darkness

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 7: "The Looming Darkness"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

Major Curtis Swanson reviewed the reports on his desk with growing distaste. More and more he felt a growing dissatisfaction with his posting and every new report he read only fueled that distaste until he began to wonder why the United States didn't just drop another atom bomb on Tokyo and put the area out of its misery.

A knock on the door caught his attention. It was Lieutenant Gibbs of the Military Police unit under his command.

"Another wonderful morning in the Land Of The Rising Sun, Major?" Gibbs asked as he saluted.

"Personally I'll take Reno any day," Swanson sighed, returning the salute. "Here are a few matters for your patrols to clear up." Swanson handed Gibbs a clipboard with paper on it. Gibbs leafed through the reports.

"Bar fight. Drunk and disorderly. Black marketeering," Gibbs recited. "The men are bored and restless. They want to go home. A lot of them put in enough time at Okinawa, Iwo Jima, and rocks like that. They're tired of baby-sitting a bunch of Nips."

"You think I don't want to go home? If I see another grain of rice, I think I'll puke," scowled Swanson. "The sooner we can get a lid on this place, the sooner we can be rotated stateside." He searched his desk for a report. "Oh, there's one case I want you to prioritize. That one rape case."

"Another rape charge? These people have rape on the brain!"

"Given what happened in Yokohama harbor last September, I don't blame them," retorted Swanson. "Besides, MacArthur is about to close down those state-sanctioned brothels, so your rape reports are going to go up. Get a handle on it now and maybe the word will get around to these jar-heads to keep it in their pants."

"Sixteen years old," mumbled Gibbs. "Some guys can't even wait until they grow up." He noticed Swanson still searching the piles of reports on his desk. "What are you looking for?"

"Here it is!" proclaimed Swanson. He pulled out a paperboard folder with a golden silk closure that was unlike anything he'd seen.

"What's that, if I may ask?" Gibbs gaped.

"This is a record from the Imperial Army Of Japan, concerning a woman named Sakura Ogami," Swanson explained. "She's a Shinto priest now, but twenty years ago she allegedly was a demon slayer."

"Yeah, and I'm Fred Allen," chuckled Gibbs. "What do you need with a demon slayer? Assuming they even exist. Going to use her on Colonel Forbes?"

"I need her advice," Swanson admitted. "She just might have the answer to those insurgent ambushes we've been fighting for the last few months."

* * *

Yuki Saboru came down to breakfast, though she really didn't want to. Food in the morning didn't have much appeal lately. Now she knew why.

And her family would be there. She had avoided her father and little brother the previous afternoon and evening. But she couldn't avoid them forever. Tam she could deal with if she just used a little patience. But if her father was angry with her, or disappointed in her, or worst of all shunned her because she was carrying a baby at her age, and a mixed-race baby at that - - the very thought of it filled her with such overwhelming trepidation that she wanted to just flee into the night.

But she couldn't. She wasn't prepared to live on her own, and Chris couldn't take her in without his superiors in the American military finding out. Their clandestine meetings had been so thrilling and romantic, meeting on the sly, the scent of danger making every moment together that much more intoxicating. Now she feared for the future, her own, her baby's and her future with Chris Ohlendorf.

"Good morning, Yuki-Chan," her mother smiled as she entered. Her hand went out and stroked her daughter's face.

"How are you feeling?" her father asked. He wasn't mad. He didn't loathe her. That alone made Yuki feel one hundred percent better.

"I'm still a little dazed by everything that's happened," Yuki admitted. She sat down and her mother handed her some fish and rice. Yuki didn't really feel like eating it, but she recalled it was just the previous July that she had been so hungry in the countryside with the other evacuees that she would have sold any possession she owned for a bowl of rice and some fish. So she ate them. "I'm kind of scared of what the future holds for me." Her brother, thirteen and just emerging from puberty, gave her an anxious glance. Her parents must have told him.

"I'm sure you are," her father said sympathetically. "It's very daunting having to raise a child without a husband at any age, but particularly at your age." He reached over and tenderly squeezed her shoulder. "But your mother and I will give you any help you need. You can stay here, raise the child with us. I'll support you both. If you want to go to school, your mother and I will watch the child while you're gone. The only thing I ask," and he paused to gather himself, "is that you don't penalize this child for how it was conceived or what it is. Love this child and raise it to be strong and good, and make something good out of a terrible crime. It's going to be tough enough on the child and on you because it will be mixed-race. Please don't make the child suffer for the sins of its father."

Yuki's eyes sought the table. Her lower lip trembled, as guilt over the lie she was living washed over her like a tidal wave. At once she nodded, contenting herself that at least her parents still accepted her. And maybe some day she could gain enough strength to admit the truth.

* * *

Will Ohlendorf knocked on the door of the room Chief Warrant Officer Hayes shared with the other officers of his company. Hayes looked up from the report he was filling out.

"Private Ohlendorf reporting as ordered, Chief," Will said, saluting.

"At ease, Ohlendorf," Hayes responded. He gestured to a chair and Will sat down. "I've got two things for you, Ohlendorf. First things first. You've got enough points for discharge. You'll be shipping back to the States in about two weeks, as soon as the paperwork clears. Unless you'd like to re-up?"

"Um," Will responded unenthusiastically. "Can I think about that, Chief?"

"Sure," chuckled Hayes. "And I wouldn't blame you if you said no. After the tours you had, you've done your duty. But the option is there if you do decide to take it." Hayes picked up a piece of paper. "Now for the other matter. Your petition to bring this Tanaka girl back with you has been denied."

"Denied?" exclaimed Will. "Why?"

"You have to ask? The Shore Patrol did a standard background check on this girl. Aside from the fact that she's sixteen, she's been working the past six months as a . . ."

"Not since she met me!" fumed Will. "She gave that up! We're in love, Chief! We're going to be married!"

"Don't bet on it, Private," Hayes told him. "The United States Government considers her an 'undesirable alien' and will not approve an immigration visa or a resident alien application. And don't think about marrying her here, because the Japanese government has laws on the books forbidding marriages between Japanese citizens and non-Japanese foreign nationals. Have had for years."

"Well I'm only going to be a Marine for another two weeks," Will replied stone-faced. "We can get married somewhere else."

"They're not going to muster you out of the service here in Tokyo, Ohlendorf. And it's going to be a pretty long-distance ceremony if she's in Tokyo and you're in Camp Pendleton. And if you were just expecting to waltz back into Japan after you're out of the service, you probably might want to think again. Americans aren't too popular in this country. They don't have a choice what military personnel they let in, but they do have some choice about civilians," Hayes commented. "Look, Ohlendorf, just go home and forget her. The government is never going to let her set foot in the U.S. And the Japanese are never going to let you live here." Will didn't respond. He just glared. "OK, dismissed. And Ohlendorf - - don't let it eat you too much. She's a whore. It probably wouldn't have lasted anyway."

* * *

As if out of the mists, she was there in Major Swanson's doorway. Sakura Ogami stood waiting to be granted entry. Apparently she had by-passed his clerk, or else the clerk was somewhere else. Swanson got to his feet.

"Come in, um," Swanson greeted her uncertainly.

"Ogami-Sensei is the accepted form," Ogami replied, bowing to him and entering. "But Ogami will do if it is easier for you." She glided over to the chair Swanson gestured her to. Every time he saw her, she seemed to be the epitome of grace. But she still had that quality of weariness to her that he saw in so many others, Americans and Japanese alike. "Do you have word of my husband?"

"No, Ma'am, um, Ogami-Sensei. I'm sorry," Swanson said as he sat down. "There was another matter I wanted to ask you about." He hesitated. "Please don't let word of this get around. I don't want to start a panic. Things are tense enough here already." She nodded. "There have been several incidents over the last four months of American patrols or supply trucks being attacked. The soldiers have been savagely torn apart: beheaded, dismembered and the torsos slashed. We suspected loyalist insurgents at first, using farming tools as weapons. But some fragmentary witness testimony as well as the size and number of wounds have caused us to doubt this theory."

"Then what do you suspect, if I may ask?" Ogami inquired.

"Ogami-Sensei," Swanson began. She could see it was difficult for him. "I've reviewed your military records from the twenties. It describes several incidents where you fought . . .well, I'm not exactly certain just what you fought. The reports are pretty difficult to . . ."

"You suspect a demon?" Ogami cut to the end.

"Well that's just it," Swanson frowned. "This is the twentieth century. Superstitious nonsense like ghosts and goblins are hard for a modern man to swallow."

"And yet the evidence points to just such a thing," Ogami replied. "Major Swanson, you may not wish to believe it, but demons do exist. I fought them in my younger days, before demons of a different sort gained control of this country. Where have the incidents taken place?"

"The first was outside of Hiroshima," Swanson reported. He noticed Ogami wince. "The next was near Kobe. There have been four more since, just north of Osaka, southwest of Nagoya, then two more between Nagoya and Yokohama."

"All on a line leading to Tokyo," Ogami nodded. "This witness testimony you spoke of. Were they villagers or your own troops?"

"Several Marines from a squad in the Kobe region. No villagers. They're all scared, but they won't talk to us."

"And have any villagers or peasants been attacked?"

"We don't have any reports of Japanese casualties," Swanson reported. "That's why we initially suspected insurgents."

"What did your witnesses see?"

"One of them said he might have seen a giant tail," Swanson related. "Unusually large, almost olive drab with scales and ridges. The witnesses mostly report feeling a presence and hearing a large hissing sound."

Ogami thought for a bit. Major Swanson waited for her response.

"I suspect you have a large problem, Major," Ogami frowned. "I would have to have some sort of contact with this phenomenon to be certain, but I suspect your atomic bomb has angered something you did not wish to anger, and it is seeking its revenge. This is supported by both the manner in which your soldiers were attacked and by the fact that only your soldiers were attacked. I don't think it's a demon. I think it may be an animal spirit or the spirit of one of the dead from Hiroshima refusing to pass on and changed into a vengeful ogre. Perhaps it is even one of the minor gods. But the fact that these attacks started after the bombing at Hiroshima and involve only American soldiers is telling."

"Can you help us?" Swanson ventured.

Ogami frowned.

"I have no desire to," she replied finally. Major Swanson gaped incredulously.

"But why? I thought you hated the Japanese militarism."

"I do. I opposed what my country had become. Sometimes I was the only voice to say so," Ogami said, looking Swanson directly in the eye. "That does not mean I approve of foreign soldiers in my country. Nor do I approve of the way many of your soldiers have acted in my country. Nor do I approve of the destruction and deprivation your planes rained down upon us here in Tokyo and in other cities. Nor do I approve of the wanton, callous destruction of two entire cities full of people from your atomic bombs. This phenomenon you have awakened wants you gone from this land. Though I do not approve of wanton destruction of life, I too want you gone from this land." She stood up to leave. "My advice would be for you to leave."

"Well that's not possible," Swanson replied, his mouth hardening.

"Then I suggest that you prepare for the worst," Ogami told him, then turned and left his office.

* * *

Lieutenant Gibbs was at his desk reviewing reports from his officers at the Military Police outpost set up in the back of the Tokyo Music Hall. The office was cramped, because it had once been a dressing room, but Gibbs didn't complain. No one would listen anyway.

Looking up when he heard a knock on his door, Gibbs found Staff Sergeant Dennis O'Leary waiting. The officer waved the non-com in.

"How are thing out there, Irish?" Gibbs asked.

"This is the screwiest place I've ever been in, Lieutenant," O'Leary sighed, removing his helmet and rubbing his close cropped red hair. "Six months ago these devils were ready to kill themselves if they could take one of us with them. Now they act so polite and deferential. I keep thinking it's a plot, that they're going to turn on us in numbers, but there's only been sporadic incidents of it, and usually when one of them has had too much Sake. You'd think they'd resent us."

"They probably do," Gibbs said. "They're probably docile and respectful because we have the guns and we're feeding them. Remember what they looked like when we landed back in August?"

"Yeah, some of them looked so hungry and beaten down, I thought they were going to eat our jeep," nodded O'Leary. "Well, I just wanted to drop by and give you something to do, Lieutenant. Here are the day's reports." He handed Gibbs a manila folder.

"Wonderful. More reports," Gibbs said sourly. "Sometimes I think if the Nips had attacked our paper supply they would have won the war." He took the file and opened it. "Any leads on the Saboru rape? Major Swanson is kind of pushing that one."

"What's so special about that one?"

"I hear the father of the girl was in here raising Hell," Gibbs informed him. "Doesn't look good for the U.S. Military if the public found out one of their own was raping sixteen year old girls. Besides, the scuttlebutt is MacArthur is about to close down the brothels, so Swanson wants a high profile arrest to head off any rise in said activity. Otherwise, you might just get the unrest among the locals you've been looking for."

"Well we questioned the girl, but she was no help. Doesn't want to talk about it. Seems really shamed by it. I think if it wasn't for her family pushing the investigation, she'd just drop it. We also did a little nosing around the area the girl frequents - - school, home, places like that. The ones who would talk to us kept bringing up a Marine corporal she was seen with. One of them identified him as a Corporal Ohlendorf, Christopher, attached to Linguistics. He may have been using an alias, because most of the people we talked to called him 'Guy John'."

"This Ohlendorf got anything on his service record?" Gibbs asked.

"Clean as a whistle," O'Leary answered. "Of course that doesn't mean much when someone has been to Hell and back in the space of eighteen months, even in Linguistics. And the kid's only twenty. I've seen hardened combat vets lose it for less. Maybe he figured he'd get a little personal revenge for Pearl Harbor or for some buddy he lost during the war. Hell, maybe he was trying to get cozy with the kid and she wouldn't put out. A clean service record doesn't rule him out."

"True enough," Gibbs nodded, letting the folder fall onto his desk. "Pick him up and see what he says about it."

Continued in Chapter 8


	8. The Circle Of Retribution

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 8: "The Circle Of Retribution"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

Gon Narita swept the dusting of snow from the walk. It was probably the last snow of the season, what little of it there was. Winter was in its death throes. Soon Spring would be here and with it the cherry blossoms. And he could start planting. Since taking over maintenance of the shrine from Ogami-Sensei, Gon had discovered a genuine affection for gardening. And Ogami-Sensei had remarked that the grounds had never looked lovelier. It was a compliment he gave much weight to, both because it was Ogami-Sensei who said it, and because Ogami-Sensei had originally been from the country and knew what natural beauty looked like.

The priest-in-training looked up at the softening blue of the sky. He wanted Spring to be here. He wanted to start growing things. Maybe seeing the grounds bloom majestically would help him overcome his broken heart.

The scuff of sandals on cobblestone alerted Gon to a visitor. He looked up and saw Futabara Hino approaching. Gon stood his ground.

"Narita," Hino said, bowing to his old friend. "I want to apologize. I didn't know how you felt about Nomimura."

"I don't think she knew, either," Gon mused solemnly. "It seems like everybody knew about it except the two people I should have told first. That was my error."

"Kasumi and I both feel terrible about this," Hino continued. "Neither one of us wanted to hurt you. Please understand that."

"I do," Gon said, reaching out and patting Hino on the arm. "We can't help who we fall in love with, Hino, anymore than we can help who we become friends with. It's the will of the gods, and the gods decided that Nomimura-San was better suited to you than to me. I don't bear any ill feelings toward either of you." He flashed his friend a half-hearted grin. "Although I do question her taste."

"You'll find someone else, Narita," Hino replied, feeling a little more at ease. "And she'll help you forget."

"As you say," Gon nodded. Then he sighed. "But I doubt there are two women on this planet as gentle and as lovely as Nomimura-San. Whoever this woman I'm destined to marry is, she'll have a tough act to follow." Gon playfully clapped his hand against Hino's arm. "Who knows? Maybe my son will end up marrying your daughter."

"If that's the case," smirked Hino, "let's hope he looks better than you."

Gon smiled at that, despite how he felt. "So when is the wedding?"

"April, if her father approves," Hino informed him. "You're invited, of course. But if you feel it would be too painful, we will understand."

Gon looked down for a moment. "I'll let you know," he replied. Hino nodded his understanding.

* * *

Yuki Saboru still wasn't certain this was a good idea. If word had gotten around the school of her being "raped", the humiliation would be more than she could bear. But she just had to get out of the house. Her parents were so cautious around her, so solicitous, bending over backwards to make everything comfortable and supportive that the guilt she felt was threatening to crush her. How did things get so out of control? Her soul yearned to admit the truth, but she was too scared of how her father would react.

"Maybe I'll run into Chris," Yuki thought. "Maybe we can just spend the day together and forget everything. Oh, I wish we could just run away to a place where nobody knows us and just live in peace."

Turning a corner, Yuki heard a commotion up ahead. A western woman was up ahead, in a heated exchange with a couple of the local Pan-Pan Girls. She was dressed in a long black skirt and a black cloth jacket, with a black bonnet on her head. The woman had a black book in her hand and she was waving it at one of the Pan-Pan Girls.

And the Pan-Pan Girl was Yoshiko.

"Stop! Stop it, Please!" Yuki begged, running up and forcing herself between Yoshiko and this strange western woman.

"Tell her to stop yelling at me, Yuki-Chan!" Yoshiko barked. From the tremor in her voice, Yoshiko was quite upset.

["Listen to the word of God!"] the woman yelled over Yuki at Yoshiko. ["It's the only thing that can save you!"]

["Please stop!"] Yuki said, trying to recall the English she had learned. ["You are upset my friend!"]

["Your friend is a sinner and a heathen and will burn in the fires of damnation!"] the woman fired back. ["Her only hope is to accept Jesus as her Savior!"]

"Go kill yourself, crazy Gaijan!" Yoshiko spat back.

["I'm just trying to help you!"] the woman retorted.

["She not want your help!"] Yuki cried.

A couple of the other Pan-Pan Girls took up the argument, allowing Yuki to whisk Yoshiko away. The two girls took refuge by the store Suichiro Mizuno ran. Yoshiko began crying, so much so that Yuki felt compelled to hold her up.

"Who was that woman?" Yuki gasped.

"One of the Christians," Yoshiko sniffled. "They've been showing up more and more recently, trying to convert everyone to their religion! The other girls say they're from America!"

"The soldiers let them do this?"

"The soldiers are the ones who brought them over!" fumed Yoshiko. "The head general of the American army sent them here to turn us all into Christians!" Yoshiko sobbed. "It's so crazy! They come here to make us into Christians, but I'm not good enough to go to their country and be an American!"

"What are you talking about?" Yuki demanded.

"Will told me," sobbed Yoshiko. "He told me he can't take me to America! He said they won't let him marry me there! They think I'm not good enough! And there's no way a white American can marry me here! Oh, Yuki-Chan, what do I do? I love him so much!"

Helpless to answer, because she was only sixteen, Yuki could only hug her friend and let her cry.

* * *

Chris Ohlendorf didn't understand why the Shore Patrol had summoned him to their offices. From the sound of it, they didn't want anything translated. He hoped that his brother hadn't done anything stupid. Will was very upset about Yoshiko being denied entry into the United States. Entering the office, he came to attention before the man sitting at the desk.

"Corporal Christopher Ohlendorf, reporting as ordered, Sergeant," Chris said. He noticed a patrol officer standing by the door. The man at the desk, Master Sergeant George Polanski, a blonde, burly veteran of the Marine Corps, waved him to a seat without comment. Fighting back nerves, Chris took a seat.

"Corporal Ohlendorf," Polanski began, his eyes scanning a report before they looked up at him, "are you acquainted with this girl?"

Polanski showed Chris a photo of Yuki Saboru. Chris felt his jaw tighten. Had word leaked out about their affair? Was he in trouble for violating the non-fraternization restriction?

"No, Sergeant," Chris lied, hoping there was a chance that he could get away with it. His relationship with Yuki was just starting out. He already wondered if it had a future, given what Will was going through. He didn't need more trouble.

"No?" Polanski asked. "There are witness statements testifying that you two have been seen together."

"Are you sure they didn't mistake me for my brother?" Chris asked. "We're practically twins."

"We know all about your brother," Polanski stated. "We have five different people who identified your picture as being in the company of this girl. One of the witnesses actually named you. Chris Ohlendorf, not William." Polanski leaned forward. "So, you want to try again?"

"OK, I've been out with her," Chris sighed.

"Why'd you say you didn't know her?"

"I didn't want to get pinched for violating non-fraternization," Chris admitted.

"All right," Polanski said. "You have intercourse with this girl?"

"How is that any of your business?" snapped Chris.

"Answer the question."

"Why? What's this all about?"

"Girl says she was raped," Polanski said flatly.

"She said I did it?"

"Did you do it?"

"I didn't rape her! We're in love!"

"That's not the story I get."

"I didn't force her to do anything! She was willing!"

"Well, yeah, you're going to say that now."

"If Yuki was raped, it has to be by someone else! We love each other!"

"Corporal, why should I believe you? You've already demonstrated you're capable of lying to me to save your own neck," Polanski told him. "You've practically admitted that you screwed her. You're just lucky she's sixteen. Any younger and you'd be looking at a court-martial for carnal knowledge of a minor." He shifted some of the papers on his desk. "Of course you say she was willing. Well maybe she wasn't so willing. Maybe she put you off. Maybe you didn't want to take 'no' for an answer."

"No, that's not how it was!" shouted Chris.

"Maybe you wanted to brag to all of your Marine Corps buddies about how you nailed a Japanese girl."

"No!"

"Did you know you knocked her up?" Polanski asked. Chris stared at him, dumb-struck. "Well you don't seem to be that close for two people 'in love'. The girl's about six weeks along. Do you know what's going to happen to a mix-breed kid in this backward society they got over here? Or were you too busy proving that you were a man?"

"Yuki's pregnant?" Chris whispered.

"God, how many man hours do I have to waste on Joes like you?" grumbled Polanski. "My job is ten times harder because the Japs scream rape every time a G.I. looks cross-eyed at one of their women. Then a Joe like you shows up and not only does it, but does it to a sixteen year old girl besides! And you haven't even seen combat! The combat vets are bad enough!" The Sergeant signed a page in a folder. "Corporal Rubenstein, escort the prisoner. He's to be placed under armed guard until such time as can be determined that a general court martial is necessary."

"But I didn't do anything!" Chris protested.

"You'll have your chance to prove that," Polanski responded. "I imagine the tribunal will order a paternity test just to see if it could be someone else's kid." Chris felt his stomach grow cold.

"W-What's going to happen to me?" Chris asked. "If they convict me?"

"Not familiar with the Military Code, Corporal?" Polanski asked. "A conviction of rape is punishable by death, or other such penalty as seen fit by the adjudicating officer."

Numbly Chris allowed himself to be escorted out.

* * *

Sakura Ogami gathered the charms and talismans they sold at the shrine and carefully stored them away. It was a mechanical thing to do, something that allowed her to work without thinking. Because she was still preoccupied with her last conversation with Major Swanson.

Her refusal to help him against this angry demon or spirit - - or god - - roaming the country slaughtering American soldiers weighed on her. And the maddening part of it was that she didn't think it should. The Americans had behaved in Japan little better than the Japanese Imperial Army had behaved in China, Korea or The Philippines. American soldiers wandered the streets with impunity, taking what they wanted and looking down on or insulting Japanese citizens. General MacArthur had dismantled the Japanese government and compartmentalized the Shinto religion, then encouraged Christian missionaries to flood the country. And how many mass graves littered Japan, filled with victims of American fire bombings, not to mention the horrific loss of life in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And she was supposed to forgive these people and aid them? Had her friends Sumire, Maria, Iris, Kanna and Kohran forgiven the Japanese government for what they did?

"Master," Gon Narita spoke up and Ogami turned to him. "I'm about to go to the store for some things. Did you want me to pick anything up?"

"No," Ogami shook her head. "Oh, did you meet with your friend, Hino?"

"Yes, Master," Narita nodded. "It was a very good meeting. I was very grateful to hear his remorse."

"So you've forgiven him?"

"Yes. There was no intent of malice toward me. They just got caught up in their own desires and didn't consider any ramifications. It was an easy thing to forgive."

"That's very kind of you, Narita," Ogami observed with some respect.

"Besides, the philosopher says that to follow the path of bitterness and anger serves only one's self. We are better as a whole than as a single person, and the glue that binds us as a whole only comes through respect and forgiveness."

Ogami gave him a fisheye look. "Excellent sentiments. But I don't recall any philosopher saying those sentiments in quite that manner."

Narita smiled puckishly. "I made it up. It sort of summarizes the wisdom of others more learned than I am. After all, who has time to memorize such things word for word? Isn't the spirit of the message more important?"

The priest tried not to smile. Narita looked at her expectantly.

"If I may ask, Master, you seem upset by something," Narita inquired. "It seems to me that you've been that way ever since returning from the Music Hall. Did you receive bad news about your husband?"

"No," frowned Ogami. "The Americans asked for my help, as a Priest and as a Demon Fighter."

"Is something preying on the city?" Narita asked uneasily.

"Not the city," Ogami answered. "Not yet."

"May I assist you? I know I lack skill, but I think I can be of some help . . ."

"The spirit is only preying on the American soldiers," Ogami explained. "I didn't see the need to become involved."

"Really?" Narita asked. To her surprise, he seemed genuinely disheartened.

"I consider it karma," Ogami scowled. "The gods dispensing retribution for the suffering the Americans have visited upon us."

Narita looked down. "Well, you are the Master."

"You think I'm wrong to feel this way?" questioned Ogami.

"It's not my place to say, Master. You follow the path you see as wisest." He paused, seeming to gather his courage. "I just wonder where the circle of vengeance ends? We attack the Americans. The Americans attack us. One side seeks retribution, which in turn brings calls of retribution from the other side. On and on it goes. If I had sought retribution against Hino, I would be within my rights. But I would no longer have a valued friend, nor would I have the woman I love. Of what value then is retribution?"

Ogami didn't respond. Just then, a uniformed soldier from the United States Army finished mounting the steps to the shrine. He walked up to them and nodded respectfully to Ogami.

["Ma'am,"] he said, in English. Only Ogami understood him. ["Major Swanson requests that you accompany me, with his respects. He said for me to tell you that he has news about your husband."]

Swallowing nervously, Ogami nodded, then gave a brief summary to Narita. She and the army private headed to a jeep waiting at street level.

The jeep carried Ogami to a fenced-in prison camp on the outskirts of Tokyo that had once housed captured American and British prisoners. Here former members of the Japanese military were being housed. Ogami viewed the grounds and the defeated, desperate men inside the fences with growing alarm. The idea that her beloved Ichiro might be housed here filled her with dread. But what other reason could Major Swanson have for summoning her here?

["This camp is designed to house members of the former Japanese military until such time as can be determined whether they are guilty of war crimes,"] Major Swanson explained as he and Ogami walked down the hall of a barracks. Army and Marine sentries were at strategic points. ["If a prisoner is determined to be someone we lack any evidence against, they're mustered out of their branch of service and released into the civilian population. Anyone who we have evidence against is held for trial."]

["What does this have to do with my husband?"] Ogami asked anxiously.

Swanson paused at a door and nodded to the sentry. The sentry unlocked the door. Swanson and Ogami entered. There they found a lone Japanese man in his early twenties, totally unremarkable in every way. His left arm had been amputated at the shoulder.

["This prisoner served with your husband at the Japanese air field on Okinawa,"] Swanson informed her. ["During debriefing, we discovered he was the last person to see him alive."]

Ogami turned to the prisoner. The man seemed to shrink from her gaze.

"You knew Commander Ogami?" she asked.

"I," the terrified man began. "I was a ground mechanic for the squadron."

"What happened to him?"

The man swallowed nervously. "We had gotten orders from command," the man related. "We were to attack the American fleet that was approaching." He exhaled loudly. "Command had ordered the Imperial Lotus Squadron to begin kamikaze attacks. They weren't needed to protect the fleet, they said."

Ogami felt her throat tighten.

"Commander Ogami objected, very loudly," the man continued. "He said it was a tremendous waste of the best air squadron in the world. He and Commodore Fujisaki got into a terrible argument about it in the hangar. Commander Ogami argued and argued, and finally refused to order his men to their deaths. Commodore Fujisaki called him a traitor and a coward and so many other terrible names. I thought they were going to come to blows." He looked down, lost in the memory. "Instead, Commander Ogami turned and walked away from the Commodore. I don't know what he was going to do."

"Where did he go?" Ogami asked.

But the man shook his head. "Commander Ogami only took a few steps. Commodore Fujisaki was so enraged that he drew his sword and," and the man peeked up at the priest anxiously, "and beheaded him. Right there in the hangar. He called Commander Ogami a coward and a shame to the Empire, and then he spit on his body."

Immediately the man slid out of his bunk and fell to his knees on the floor, his head pressed to the floor.

"Forgive me, Sensei!" he wailed. "Forgive me for having to tell you this! Your husband was a good man and a good officer! We were all very loyal to him!"

"What," Ogami asked, her voice soft and fragile with shock, "happened to Fujisaki?"

The man remained bowed. "When the Americans overran the base, Commodore Fujisaki shot me with his service pistol and then fell on his sword. I survived the gunshot. I guess the gods wanted to make sure you found out how your husband died."

Uneasily Major Swanson peeked at his guest to see how Sakura Ogami was reacting to the story, as he didn't understand a word of what was being said. Tears streamed down the woman's face, but there was a look of grim determination on it, too. Swanson wondered if the prisoner had told her what he'd told them.

["Thank you, Major, for discovering this,"] Ogami said. ["And for taking the time to tell me."]

["Not at all, Sensei,"] Swanson replied. ["I'm only sorry it wasn't better news."]

["I will aid you with your problem now,"] she added. Swanson didn't hide his surprise.

["Thank you. What changed your mind?"]

["The circle of retribution, Major,"] she said hoarsely. ["It must end. Let it end here, by my hand, the gods willing."]

Continued in Chapter 9


	9. He Who Is Without Sin

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 9: "He Who Is Without Sin"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

The grocery shop owned by Suichiro Mizuno was empty, save for Mizuno himself and his helper, Kentaro Kino. In between days working on the construction sites rebuilding destroyed homes, roads and rail lines, Kino helped out at the grocery store. Mizuno had come to like and depend upon the man, for he was a willing worker, very knowledgeable and very helpful. Plus Mizuno liked to think that helping out someone else would aid his own karma. Right now he could use all the good karma he could get.

"Afternoon, Mizuno-San," beamed Gon Narita. The little bowling ball of a novitiate was always good for a smile and a few purchases. Narita looked around. "Business still bad?"

"Even though the Americans started distributing food to the grocery stores to get to the people, nobody has any money," shrugged Mizuno.

"And I'm afraid it's going to be like that for a while," added Kino, carrying a bag of rice from the storeroom. "The economy is in ruins. And it's going to take time to rebuild. I just hope we have the time to wait until it's rebuilt."

"How is Ogami-Sensei?" Mizuno asked.

"Troubled, I must admit," Narita confessed. "She went off in a vehicle with an American soldier today. There may be word about what happened to Commander Ogami."

"I pray it's good news," Mizuno spoke up. "Although it's been almost a year since anyone heard from him. How good could the news be?"

"And if that weren't enough, the Americans have asked for her help."

"I thought they were all Christians," Kino observed.

"As a demon hunter," Narita told him.

"The stories!" gasped Mizuno fearfully. "I knew they were true! It's the wrath of the gods! They're going to punish us for failing the Emperor!"

"Actually the only ones they seem to be punishing right now are the Americans," Narita cautioned. "But you never know if this angry spirit or demon will turn on us once it's through with the Americans. Right now, Master is reluctant to fight it. I hope she changes her mind."

"D-Do you suppose it could really turn on us?" Mizuno asked. Narita looked him right in the eye.

"At the moment, I'm only guessing," he said solemnly. "But we must be prepared for the possibility. Are you willing to fight if it comes to it?"

"M-Me?" mumbled Mizuno. "I'm just a lowly shopkeeper. I know nothing about fighting demons."

"I would do anything to protect my family," Kino said, leaning in. "What must I do?"

"Do you have any salt?" Narita asked. Mizuno nodded vigorously and limped into the back. He returned with a box filled with three inch cakes of salt.

Setting the box down on the counter, Mizuno watched with Kino as Narita brought his flattened hand vertically to his face. Mumbling a prayer, Narita produced a sacred ward from his sleeve and stuck it to the box. He opened his eyes and lowered his hand. Reaching into his sleeve again, Narita produced two amulets.

"It isn't much," Narita said, handing the amulets to Mizuno and Kino. "Use the amulet to protect yourself from evil. If confronted by a demon, throw the salt at it. It may not be strong enough, but it will give you a fighting chance." Seeing Mizuno stare at him wide-eyed, Narita reached out and patted his shoulder. "The demon may not come here at all. Don't let worry consume you, Mizuno. It just pays to be safe." Kino picked up one of the cakes of salt and examined it curiously.

* * *

When he heard the lock turn on the small room he was confined in, Chris Ohlendorf looked up. Was it time for his court martial already? It had only been a day. But who else could it be?

His heart leaped when he saw it was his brother. Chris started for him to greet him, but stopped when the sentry gave him a menacing look, his hand on his sidearm. Backing off, Chris let Will enter and the sentry relocked the door.

"What the Hell is all this, Chris?" gasped his virtual twin brother. "They say you're under arrest for rape?"

"It's all a mistake, Will. It's got to be," Chris muttered, sitting on the bunk in the room and cupping his hand over the back of his neck.

"Who's charging you with rape?"

"Yuki."

"Yuki?" Will marveled. "Why would Yuki do that?"

"She's pregnant, Will," Chris sighed. "Her father must have found out."

"So she's covering her ass by saying you raped her?"

"Isn't it wonderful?" Chris looked bitterly at his brother. "I guess everything they said back home about Japs being two-faced back-stabbers was true."

"It's got to be her father, Chris," Will told him. "Her father has to be pushing the rape charges. Yuki is Yoshiko's friend. She'd never do anything like that."

"Sure she wouldn't. She's as innocent as a snowfall Christmas morning," scowled Chris. "I'll try to keep that in mind when I'm facing a firing squad."

"You're not going to face a firing squad. Look, I'll get Yoshiko to take me to their house," Will declared. "I'll get the truth out of them. Yuki probably doesn't even know you're the one being held."

Will got up, went to the door and rapped on it.

"Just hold on, Chris," Will said. "We'll get this straightened out. You'll see."

"Yeah," Chris replied unenthusiastically. The guard entered and looked at Will's dog tag before letting him pass. "Oh, and Will - - when you're around Yoshiko - - don't turn your back on her."

"Chris," Will answered, "that's the woman I love you're talking about. Now I know you're in a tough spot right now, so I'll let that pass. But don't say things like that about her again."

Chris watched his brother disappear out the door. He couldn't help but notice how dramatically their attitudes toward the Japanese people had changed in the short months they'd been stationed here.

* * *

Major Swanson drove back from the prison camp. Sakura Ogami sat beside him, while the private who ferried her there sat in the back. Ogami didn't notice the bumpy ride as she had on the trip to the camp. Her thoughts were on her dead husband, cut down by his own superior officer for choosing not to send his squadron to their deaths.

"I apologize if this seems indelicate," Swanson began. "I realize you're mourning your husband and I wish I could give you more time, but the attacks are getting closer to Tokyo."

Ogami was silent for a few moments. "Allow me to build a small shrine to my dear Ichiro, so he may be properly mourned," she said tonelessly. "Then I will be at your service."

"Of course," Swanson nodded. "It's too bad the rest of your demon-fighting squad aren't available. Do you know what happened to them? There was no indication in the records I reviewed."

The priest turned away from him for a beat. At that moment, Swanson noted that she seemed less like the indomitable force he'd known her as and more like a lost child. Then it disappeared and the strong, elegant force of right returned.

"The unit was decommissioned in 1931," Ogami explained, "but we remained together unofficially at the behest of General Yoneda. General Yoneda died in 1933, and we fell under the auspices of - - other people. Li Kohran was arrested just after the invasion of the Chinese Mainland as a suspected spy. We all protested and tried to get her freed, but we never saw her again. There was word she was dead, but no confirmation.

"Then the military tried to seize our steam-powered armor," and Ogami smiled mirthlessly at the memory, "but they found that without Li Kohran, they could not make them work. Sumire Kanzaki, who now ran Kanzaki Heavy Industries, was ordered to surrender the plans and all working models. Her response was to destroy the plans and the working models. She then committed seppuku on the stage of the Imperial Music Hall, in front of a live audience, denouncing the government with her dying breath." Ogami glanced at Swanson. "Kanzaki was always very theatrical."

"I hesitate to ask about the rest," Swanson mumbled.

"Maria was next," Ogami continued. "For being critical of the Japanese government, she was deported back to Russia. I doubt she was greeted with open arms there. Orihime and Reni were recalled to Italy and Germany by the fascist governments. I don't know what became of them. After that, Iris and Kanna left on their own. They could tell the climate in Japan no longer welcomed them. This just left Ichiro and myself. And Ichiro was still part of the navy, so he felt it his duty to obey orders, no matter how much he disagreed with them."

"What a waste," Swanson observed. "From the reports I've read, I would certainly hate to have faced those armored suits on the battlefield. Japan lost a valuable weapon just because they couldn't accommodate differing viewpoints."

The jeep pulled up to the base of the steps leading up to the shrine Ogami tended. She got out of the jeep.

"Is your military so much different?" she asked Swanson. "I must retrieve something very important and prepare myself for this task. I will be at the Music Hall at eight a.m. tomorrow. Please have an armed squad of no less than ten men ready to escort me, as well as a map with the points of the previous attacks indicated. And if you know of anyone who has survived these attacks, their presence would be valuable."

"It'll be ready," nodded Swanson. "Um, and Ogami-Sensei - - please accept my personal condolences and those on behalf of the United States Military for the loss of your husband."

Ogami looked at him, surprised by the gesture and genuinely touched. After a beat, she bowed to him.

"I am grateful for the gesture, Major Swanson," she said and once again she seemed to him to be, for a moment, less of a force of nature and more of a woman. "And once more you remind me not to think in generalities where human beings are concerned."

* * *

"Yuki said that?" Yoshiko exclaimed in shock and horror. "I know she was afraid of her father finding out about her and Chris-San, but . . .!"

["Yoshiko, you're going too fast! I can't keep up!"] Will responded in English. He cursed under his breath, then searched his memory of the limited Japanese vocabulary Chris had taught him over the past months. "You fast no speak."

"I fast no speak?" Yoshiko wondered aloud. Then inspiration struck. "Oh, I'm speaking too fast! I'm sorry, Will."

["Lord, I wish Chris was here to translate,"] muttered Will. A passing man on the street looked at them with ill-concealed contempt.

"It must be her father," Yoshiko said more slowly, trying to speak as simply as possible to communicate with her companion. "She's afraid of her father."

"Father, yes!" Will nodded emphatically. "Take to father!"

"Saboru-San?" Yoshiko asked, her eyes popping. She shook her head vigorously. "No, you don't want to do that! If he thinks an American G.I. raped his daughter, he'll . . .!"

"Chris die!" Will argued. "Must speak! Make see! Show wrong!"

"He's not going to listen!" Yoshiko tried to tell him. "He may come after you!"

"Please!" Will begged, holding Yoshiko by her upper arms. He looked right into her eyes and the Japanese teen saw all of the desperation the man she loved felt. And though her common sense told her that this was probably doomed, her desire to please him drowned that voice out. She bit her lip.

"Come on," Yoshiko said helplessly, seizing Will by the wrist and leading him off. "Now I know how Yuki-Chan got pregnant. Who can say 'no' to guys like you?"

They arrived at the Saboru home. It was in better shape than a lot of homes Will had seen recently. He started through the gate and up to the house, but Yoshiko lunged ahead of him and stopped him.

"Will, please let me do the talking," she said. The combination of her expression and the few words he understood were enough to convince him. After a short, tense period, Yuki's father came to the door. His expression upon seeing Yoshiko was disdainful, but his expression upon seeing Will was naked loathing.

"Please forgive our intrusion, Saboru-San," Yoshiko said, bowing and trying to remember the Japanese formality that she had willingly abandoned so recently. "May we speak with your daughter?"

"No," Saboru replied gruffly. "My daughter is in no emotional shape to have contact with someone like . . ."

"Please, must speak!" Will blurted out. "Yuki tell truth! My brother die!"

"Brother?" snapped Saboru. He turned to Yoshiko with a withering glare. "This man is the brother of the animal who raped my child?"

"Saboru-San, please! You have to listen! Yuki made a mistake! She had to!" pleaded Yoshiko.

"Get this filthy American away from my door!" Saboru fumed.

He started to close the door, but Will shoved his way in. Saboru lunged at him and the two men grappled in the entryway to the home. Saboru's young son peered out from a doorway, his eyes saucers.

["Get off me!"] snarled Will. The younger man, his body trained in fighting technique by the Marines and his nerve hardened by the terrible rigors of Saipan and Iwo Jima, shoved down on Saboru. The man tumbled to the floor and looked up, expecting an attack. But Will just raised his head to the ceiling. "Yuki!" he bellowed. ["Please, Yuki! I need to talk to you! You have to tell me you were wrong!"]

"Leave my daughter alone!" barked Saboru and he charged the young Marine. Yoshiko shrieked. Will brought his arm down like a club across Saboru and felled the man again. Yoshiko could see Saboru's wife at the end of the hall, cowering in a corner and clutching her son to her. Even she hadn't anticipated how bad this had turned out.

"Yuki!" Will bellowed again. Yoshiko ran over and pressed up against him.

"Will, stop! Please! This isn't the way! I know you're worried about your brother, but this isn't the way to help him!" Will only looked at her puzzled and she knew he hadn't understood her.

And then Yuki descended the stairs. She stared at the scene below her from half way up the stairs, stunned beyond capacity to comprehend. Her hand went to her mouth. Like a shot, Will tore away from Yoshiko and was up the steps before Yuki could move. He seized her by the upper arms and held her close to his face.

["Yuki, it's Chris!"] Will said desperately, any attempt at Japanese forgotten. ["They arrested him! They said you said he raped you! You have to come make this right!"]

"Chris?" Yuki asked, for her grasp of English was rudimentary and this entire scene had her mind swimming.

["They're going to execute him, Yuki!"] Will persisted. ["You have to tell them you were mistaken! Chris wouldn't do something like that! You have to make it right!"]

"Execute?" Yuki repeated, trying to search her mind for the meaning of that word. Yoshiko watched her friend fight through her confusion. Then she saw her friend's eyes go wide in horror.

* * *

Commander Ichiro Ogami posed proudly in his naval officer's uniform in the framed picture. The frame, beautiful jade skillfully crafted by an artisan before the war, stood on an altar. Candles burned on either side of the picture and the top of the altar was draped in mourning.

Sakura Ogami knelt before the alter in silent prayer. To her right, Gon Narita knelt, his head bowed in respectful silence. He had never met Ichiro Ogami, but he had heard many stories of his exploits, both from Sakura and from the history books. And the man in the picture looked like a strong, kind man.

After a time, Ogami lowered her hands. She rolled back onto her heels and gracefully ascended to her feet. Narita did the same, though with less grace. He said nothing, choosing to wait for his Master to speak. Though she seemed reluctant to turn away from the picture of her Ichiro, Ogami finally mustered the strength.

Narita followed her down a hall of the shrine. She stopped before a room. The door slid open and she reached up to a shelf above them. With care she brought down a long thin item wrapped in thick cloth.

"Narita-San," she said, cradling the object with her two hands, "you said you were willing to aid me against this mysterious force I spoke of earlier. Does that still hold true?" She walked down the hall, still cradling the wrapped object. Narita followed dutifully.

"Point me in the proper direction, Master," Narita replied. "I confess I have little skill or ability, but I have a willing heart and I will do as you command."

A small smile crept onto Ogami's mouth. "You have more ability than you realize, Narita-San," she said. "Your weakness has never been the strength of your chi, but the strength of your focus. You must spend this night honing your focus and allowing your spirit to flow through your talisman. It is very important that you do this, Narita-San."

"I vow to you that I will, Master, to the best of my ability," he answered.

Ogami set the object down on a table. Carefully she unwrapped the cloth around it. Finally Narita saw what it was, though he already suspected it. It was a sword: The legendary demon-slaying sword passed down through the Shinguji family for five hundred years.

Continued in Chapter 10


	10. A Thousand, Thousand Stilled Voices

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 10: "A Thousand, Thousand Stilled Voices"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

In the basement of the Imperial Music Hall, Master Sergeant George Polanski reviewed the report of an incident from the previous night. In that incident, three Marines had gotten drunk, entered a shop that sold clothing, demolished the shop and beaten the owner. When questioned, one of the Marines said they did it because the shopkeeper looked like a Japanese soldier who had stormed their bunker in a banzai charge on Okinawa. Reports of incidents between soldiers and Japanese natives were increasing as the occupation continued. The American soldiers were bored and restless to go home, and they resented the Japanese. The Japanese were suspicious, humiliated and restless for the Americans to go home, for they resented the Americans.

"And just think," Polanski muttered, "I could have been a bus driver back in Akron and missed all of this."

A knock on his door caught Polanski's attention. Corporal Harrelson peered in.

"Local girl to see you, Sergeant," Harrelson told him. "The jar head that's with her says she's got important new information in an on-going case."

"Send her through, Harrelson," Polanski replied, smoothing back his hair. Momentarily he wondered what new little blessing was headed his way to complicate his day. As the two entered, Polanski looked them over. The girl - - she might have been twenty-five or twelve, he couldn't tell - - seemed vaguely familiar, but most Japanese looked alike to him. The Marine private who was with her was more familiar.

"Ohlendorf, isn't it?" Polanski scowled. "You've got to be William, because Chris is under guard.

"Begging your pardon, Sergeant," Will Ohlendorf said, saluting the non-com. "Miss Saboru has new information on the case against my brother, Sergeant."

"Really," Polanski scowled. Then he sighed in resignation. "Harrelson! Get a translator in here!" Turning to Yuki, who he could see was incredibly scared and uncomfortable, Polanski softened and gestured to a chair. Yuki slipped into it timidly. "You can wait outside, Ohlendorf."

"I'd rather stay here, Sergeant," Will answered urgently.

"And I told you to wait outside, PRIVATE!" snapped Polanski. Yuki flinched.

Will thought for a moment. "Yes, Sergeant," he saluted and exited the room as an army interpreter entered the room.

"OK, ma'am, I'll need your name and what case you've got information on," Polanski told Yuki, trying to calm himself as he spoke. The translator spoke to Yuki in Japanese.

"I am Saboru Yuki," Yuki said haltingly in English. "You are holding Ohlendorf Chris. He is not do this thing." As a precaution, Yuki repeated this for the translator, who relayed the message to Sgt. Polanski.

"Rape," mumbled Polanski as he thumbed through a case log. "Saboru . . .oh, here." Glancing at the file, he looked over at Yuki. Instantly Yuki's eyes sought the floor in embarrassment. "Miss Saboru, are you being forced to say this by anyone? Corporal Ohlendorf's brother, say?"

"No!" Yuki replied urgently. "Will-San came to me. He told of this mistake. I wish to make right. Chris no force me to-to - - lay with him. You cannot kill him for this!"

"It says in the report that you didn't see your attacker," Polanski countered.

"No," Yuki whispered, looking down again.

"Then how do you know it wasn't Chris Ohlendorf?"

Yuki looked up at him but couldn't think of an answer. She struggled not to begin crying. Finally she said, "It not him."

"Did you know we did a paternity test?" Polanski asked. Yuki tensed when the translator relayed that information. "Corporal Ohlendorf is probably the father of your baby."

"It not him," Yuki repeated.

"And your attacker just happened to have the same blood type?"

Yuki was on the verge of tears now. "It," she struggled to say, "not him."

"Because you were never raped?" Polanski asked.

Yuki didn't answer. She only hid her face in shame. Finally Polanski picked up a phone on his desk.

"This is Polanski, who is this?" he said into the phone. "Lance Corporal Molinaro, release prisoner Ohlendorf, Christopher, Corporal, 65478215. All charges have been dropped."

"Thank you," whimpered Yuki. She still wouldn't look at him.

"Ma'am, I don't know what situation you've gotten yourself into," Polanski told her, "but in the future, please don't involve the United States Military unnecessarily." The translator ushered Yuki out of the office. Once she was outside, Will sprang on her.

"What's the word, Yuki?" he gasped.

"Word?" Yuki asked him, puzzled.

"Did they let Chris go?" Will prodded her. Yuki nodded.

Immediately Will ran off to meet his brother, leaving Yuki behind to make her way out of the basement of the Imperial Music Hall all by herself. As she wandered the halls, shying from the men in uniform, she couldn't help but wonder what was to become of her now. Would Chris still be in love with her? Would her father and mother forgive her? By the time she got outside of the building, all she could do was sit on the top step and begin to cry.

"And I told you that it would get fixed!" Will Ohlendorf exclaimed, his arm around his brother Chris as they headed back to quarters. "The Marine Corps wouldn't execute an innocent man."

"They were perfectly willing to," Chris shot back. He didn't share his brother's enthusiasm. "Just as long as it cleared up their case load. And so was Yuki."

"Come on, Chris. You're not being fair," Will chided him. "Yuki only said she was raped because she was afraid of her father. Once she found out it was you going down for it, she stepped up and told the truth."

"And what if it hadn't been me under arrest for it?" Chris posed. The brothers stopped and looked each other in the eye. "What if it had been some other Joe who looked good for the crime? Would she have told the truth then?" Will didn't answer. Chris looked ahead. "And she said she loved me."

"She's having your kid," Will reminded him.

"Is it mine?" Chris shot back bitterly.

"Come on, Chris," Will scowled.

"People who love each other don't do that sort of thing to each other," Chris maintained. "That's what Ma and Pa told us, and they're right."

"Maybe you should be telling her this," Will suggested as they continued to the billet.

"Nothing doing," Chris shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, we're quits. If she can stab me in the back once, she can do it again. I don't want anything to do with either her or that kid."

"You sure about this, Chris?"

Chris was silent for a few steps. "I'm putting in for transfer."

"You're an interpreter. They're not going to let you out of Japan."

"It doesn't have to be out of Japan. I just want out of Tokyo," Chris frowned.

"This is a joke," muttered Will. "I'm breaking my neck trying to stay in Tokyo and you can't wait to get out. Hey, maybe we should switch dog tags."

"Hah! Some interpreter you'd make," Chris snorted. "You can barely speak English."

"Ohlendorf!" came a yell across the room as the two brothers entered the billet. Automatically both men turned to Lieutenant Graves. Only Chris saluted. "My Ohlendorf," he said to Chris, who he knew was Chris because Will had been in his company too long to bother saluting him. "Get your gear ship shape and get ready to shove off at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow. We've got a patrol."

"A patrol?" gasped Will. "Lieutenant, I've got my points! I'm a week short!"

"And normally I'd send somebody else," Graves replied. "But orders are everybody who was part of the incident outside of Kobe that one time participate in this mission. That's from Major Swanson himself. That means you, too. Now get yourself ready."

Graves turned and walked away. Will's displeasure was obvious and Chris looked on sympathetically.

"Hey," Chris suggested, "if you want, I can go . . ."

"You?" Will snorted. "You wouldn't even know which end of a rifle to fire. But you can do something for me."

"Name it."

"Cover for me here," Will said as he eased out the door. "I've got to tell Yoshiko."

* * *

Reluctantly Yuki opened the door to her home and quietly eased in. Visions of anger, of denouncements, of furious dismissal from her parents swirled in her head. For surely the truth was out now. The door closed quietly behind her and Yuki sagged against it. One selfish act of passion and now she was going to pay for it for the rest of her life. And if her parents rejected her - - well, there was always one thing she could do to rectify things. She hated the thought of her baby dying with her, but better suicide than subject it to a life of abuse and rejection.

Doffing her shoes, she padded into the entry hall. Then she saw her father in the living room, sitting silently in his favorite chair.

"Papa," Yuki said softly, entering on eggshells. His head turned to her. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Saboru spoke. His voice was flat and dead, defeated. "I'm sorry that I'm such a poor father that my child felt she had to lie to me. Do you fear me that much?"

"I," Yuki began. She felt the tears welling again and was amazed she had any left. "I didn't want you to hate me."

Her father extended his hand. Hesitant at first, Yuki finally took it and was led around to face him. She sank to her knees before him and looked up into the sadness that colored his expression.

"I don't hate you," he told her. "I'm disappointed. I had hoped for more from you. But we all give in to weakness. I was all too ready to believe someone had raped you because in a way it meant you hadn't given in to a handsome face and a smooth line. That was my weakness. That and failing to teach you that a mistake is forgivable, but a lie sometimes isn't."

"I'm sorry, Papa," Yuki whimpered.

"I forgive you, Yuki-Chan," he said, caressing her cheek. "But please don't lie to me again."

"I won't."

"And you didn't have to lie. While what you did was," and he paused diplomatically, "short-sighted, I actually do understand why you did it. Temptation is an easy thing to yield to when you're young." He smiled briefly. "Can I tell you a secret? You were at your mother's and my wedding."

Yuki looked at him, puzzled.

"You were inside your mother at the time," he smirked. "It's sort of why we had to get married. I loved your mother and wanted to marry her - - just not that soon. But it's worked out. So what about your child's father? Was it a local boy," he asked, then paused with some ill-disguised trepidation, "or was it one of the soldiers?"

"One of the soldiers," Yuki confessed. "He's the brother of the man who came here."

"What are his plans?"

"I don't know," Yuki said, laying her head on her father's knee. "I haven't seen him. Maybe he doesn't want to have anything to do with me now."

Saboru put his hand on his daughter's head, the burden of a mixed race baby growing in the racial-purity obsessed culture of Japan in his future. "If so," he said, "your child will still have a family."

* * *

Heads turned as two American military vehicles drove down the morning Tokyo streets. The lead vehicle was a jeep with an army driver and a beautiful Shinto priest, her long black hair trapped by a ribbon and blowing behind her as the jeep traveled southwest. Her protege sat in the back. Behind the jeep was a troop truck, a company of twelve Marines and their commander in back. Recognizing her, Suichiro Mizuno waved to Sakura Ogami. Then he noticed the sword across her lap.

"That was Ogami-Sensei, wasn't it?" a voice asked him. Mizuno glanced at the voice and saw it came from the young priest from the shrine a mile off, Futabara Hino.

"Yes," Mizuno answered. "I wonder if they're going to fight the demon."

"Demon?" Hino asked. "What demon?"

"The demon who has been killing the Americans," Mizuno whispered. A wave of fear swept over him. "I-I'd better get my salt!" And he turned and limped off to his shop.

Sitting in the back of the jeep, enduring the bumps and lurches, Gon Narita watched his Master. It allowed him to avoid thinking about what was to come. He had never fought a demon before. He'd never even seen one. His wish was that he could be of some small help in neutralizing this one, but there was a persistent voice inside of him that kept whispering that he was going to his death and he just couldn't quite silence it. If Ogami-Sensei wasn't on this trip, he might just turn around and go back to the shrine. But Ogami-Sensei was legendary. Even though the recent regime had done all they could to bury her past and discredit her, everyone old enough to remember the twenties and early thirties knew of her exploits. Gon knew that the wisest thing he could do was follow Ogami-Sensei's lead and guard her back.

["Stop the jeep,"] he heard her say in English.

Gon came to attention, looking around as the jeep came to a stop in the southwest portion of the city. The driver signaled the truck behind them to stop. Gon looked back at Ogami-Sensei, but she was already stepping out of the jeep, her hands on her sword. The novitiate realized his pulse was racing.

It was in the city.

"What is your name?" Ogami called up into a tree, one of the few trees that had escaped damage from the firebombing raids. It was a tree that hung out over the wall of a residence, a tree that had seen fifty years. The jeep driver looked at her like she was mad. Gon eased up by her right side.

["Why are we stopped?"] Lieutenant Graves asked the driver. He had climbed out of the truck and come over to the jeep. Helplessly the jeep driver just pointed to the priest.

"I am the echo of a thousand, thousand stilled voices," a low, hissing voice came from out of the newborn tree leaves. Gon felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "I am the spirit of vengeance for those who cannot take their vengeance. I am the spirit of those who died burning in agony, in the fires THEY made. I am Bachikasai and I was born from the ashes of the souls of Hiroshima."

["What is it? What's it saying?"] Lieutenant Graves demanded.

"Master, can such a thing be possible?" Gon asked. "Can the dead spirits of an entire city form a single demon spirit?"

"I've never known it to happen," Ogami replied, never taking her eye off of the tree. "But then, I've never known an entire city to be destroyed with one blow before."

["Sergeant, get those men out of that truck!"] Graves yelled at the troop truck. ["We've got something out here!]

["No, Lieutenant!"] Ogami called out while keeping her eyes riveted on the tree. ["Keep your men in the truck!"]

All Gon saw was the rustle of leaves and a blur of motion. By the time he had adjusted his sight line, Ogami had already vaulted the front hood of the jeep and was on the other side of it. Lieutenant Graves was on the pavement, pushed down by the demon fighter. Her sword was out and pointed at - - well, it couldn't be.

"A dragon?" he exclaimed softly, lest it hear.

The lizard's shoulders stood as tall as a horse. It had a barrel chest, a neck at least two feet long and a head with a long snout. Rigid spines sprang up around each nostril, from its chin and behind both eyes, which were set in the front of its face. More spines ran down its back and along a tail which was at least as long at the body. Four powerful legs crouched on the pavement, thighs bulging with muscles and ending in flat feet a foot and a half long. Each foot had four toes and each toe had a razor-sharp talon six inches long. The demon's hide was thick and scaly, the dark green catching little of the morning light. The beast's burning red eyes glared at Ogami, angry at being denied Lieutenant Graves' throat.

"Narita!" Ogami shouted. "Use your wards! Try to keep it contained!"

"You would side with them?" hissed the beast, snarling at the priest. "The ones who bring death and destruction to this land? Who incinerate your own with the fires of the very sun itself? You defend them against the holy vengeance of your own kind?"

"The circle of vengeance must stop!" Ogami yelled back. "I do not claim your desire for vengeance to be wrong! You were created from the death cries of the innocent people who were cut down that day, cut down for no greater reason than they were on that spot at that moment! I understand the need from which you sprang!"

With lightning quickness, the demon flicked its tail out. Gon jumped back, barely avoiding it. The wards remained in his hand.

"Your sword speaks otherwise!" hissed the demon.

"Because nothing can come from your vengeance but more vengeance!" Ogami argued. "Killing these men will not bring the dead back to life! It will not allow the angry spirits trapped within you to pass on to the next life! It will just inspire new hatred and new violence! On and on it will go until there will be nothing left to avenge oneself upon! I know what you feel! I know the ache in your heart! This war, these wages of our follies have claimed my beloved husband and two of my dearest friends! But I hear the spirit of my beautiful Ichiro! And he calls out to me! And he says 'Let my death be the last one! The circle must be broken!'"

["Holy shit!"] gasped PFC. Sid Koslowski. He, Corporal Gary Woodbridge and PFC. Will Ohlendorf had disembarked from the troop truck. Prior to this moment, the most incredulous things they had ever witnesses had been the mass suicides of the civilians on Saipan. The only monsters they'd ever witnessed had been Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi in heavy makeup during a Saturday matinee. This - - this was real life.

Woodbridge didn't bother with oaths. He raised his rifle and started firing. That shook Will out of his stupor and he opened fire, which drew the same response from Koslowski.

Bachikasai flinched at the hail of gunfire. Then it snarled angrily and lunged for the three Marines.

Continued in Chapter 11


	11. The Wrath Of Bachikasai

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 11: "The Wrath Of Bachikasai"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

Bachikasai launched itself at the three Marines with the speed of a bullet. Will Ohlendorf had been lining up a shot and suddenly the target wasn't there. And just as suddenly its red eyes were bearing down upon him, six inch razor talons raised to rend him limb from limb. He didn't even have time to flinch. A whimper of terror and surprise escaped into the air and he wasn't certain for a moment whether it had come from Woodbridge or Koslowski or from him.

Then there was a streak of white and suddenly the monster wasn't there. Will readjusted his sight line and found the titanic lizard on the street on its side. A sword blade was embedded in its neck. The priest who held the sword, a pretty little slip of a thing Will would have thought too fragile to even control such a blade, was somersaulting over the lizard to pull the blade free.

["Fall back!"] he heard Woodbridge yelling frantically. ["Fall back! Fall back!"]

As Will gave ground, he saw Woodbridge squeeze off three more shots from his rifle. One actually penetrated the thick hide of the monster, doing as little visible damage as the blade had done. A second ricocheted off the thing's forward shoulder, while a third went wild and nearly struck the priest. Pushing Woodbridge to make him stop firing, Will herded him away. By now other Marines were emerging from the troop truck and saw for the first time the fearsome enemy they were there to engage.

["Regroup!"] Sergeant Castillini barked out, trying to get control of his company. ["You three form a line there! Davis, Ellsworth, form up with them! The rest of you try to work your way to the other side of the street! We'll pin it down in a crossfire!"] As the Marines moved to obey, Castillini glanced again at the huge mythological beast come to terrible life. ["Brother, could we use a flame thrower right now."]

Ogami landed on her feet, her momentum enough to pull the sword from the demon's scaly hide. Already Bachikasai was lurching to its feet. Its tail swung wildly, knocking a section out of a wall, then striking the jeep and knocking the vehicle on its side. The driver and Lieutenant Graves scrambled for safety. Gon Narita burst forward, then dived and rolled under the slash of the tail. Rolling to his feet, he was down the street from the demon and the perimeter of American Marines. Despite the wild beating of his heart, Narita focused on the wards. Diligently he pressed one to his forehead and recited the chant to infuse them with his spirit energy, then thrust it to the street. Moments later, he had a line of wards from one side of the street to the other, forming a barrier that - - hopefully - - would prevent Bachikasai from retreating. He searched for his Master.

Blocking a slash of the demon's talons with her sword, Ogami-Sensei charged in. She was trying to reach the throat or underbelly of the demon lizard where the hide was thinnest and deliver a mortal wound there. But Bachikasai was aware of her goal. The demon twisted above her and swung with its front right leg. Ogami managed to avoid the talons, but took a blow from the foreleg and was thrown to the nearby sidewalk. She skidded to a stop against the wall of a home and was silently grateful for the long, thick cloth of her priest's tunic. Hearing sandals flopping on the pavement, Ogami looked and saw Narita running to her side. Her momentary distraction nearly cost her life, as the priest was only able to avoid a slash from the demon's great tail by rapidly pushing into a handstand and somersaulting to her feet.

By now the Marines bracketed the demon on two sides. Will's group had been firing on the demon with little effect. Their bullets penetrated the beast's hide and the sting made it even more angry. But beyond that . . .

["We might as well be lobbing cupcakes at this thing!"] Koslowski groused as his empty clip sprang from his rifle. He quickly pulled another from his belt and jammed it in.

["Maybe a couple of grenades would knock it down to size!"] Woodbridge growled, reaching inside of his shirt. Will's hand closed on him.

["You can't! You'll hit the priest!"] Will told him.

["So what? One less Jap in the world!"] Woodbridge shot back.

["You might also hit our guys across the street with shrapnel, genius,"] Koslowski added.

["The only thing we can do is keep that thing pinned down and hope that priest can cut it good with her sword!"] Will barked. His clip popped and he quickly moved to replace it.

Already Sakura Ogami was panting heavily as she gripped her sword and looked for an opening to exploit. It hadn't been that long ago that she had been a member of the Imperial Flower Division, had it? Had she let herself get this out of shape? She was only 39. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. Her foe crouched, glaring at her and waiting for her to make the next move. Tense moments passed in stalemate. The American troops continued to fire upon Bachikasai, but the demon stayed upright and seemingly unaffected by the rifle fire. That, however, was not true. The stinging impact of the bullets were making the demon increasingly annoyed and Bachikasai didn't need any more reasons to hate American troops.

With a sudden lunge, the gigantic monster thrust itself to its left at the group of Marines across from Will Ohlendorf. Ogami-Sensei moved with it, but she was a second slow in reacting to its unexpected lunge. It pounced on one of the Marines as the other three frantically scrambled to safety and with a single motion of its front legs tore great bloody gashes in the man. Private Charles Dukes screamed once. An arm flew off. His chest exploded outward as blood and body gasses spewed out, staining the pavement, the wall behind him and the creature who took his life. Bachikasai raised a foreleg to strike again, but recoiled and flinched back as Ogami-Sensei's sword slash sliced across its rib cage. It leaped away from a second slash and landed several feet from Ogami. Surviving troops refocused their attack and opened fire on the demon. Bachikasai's full attention was on Ogami, since she posed the greatest threat at the moment.

["Die, you bastard thing from Hell!"] Woodbridge roared as he threw one of his grenades at the demon. The grenade hit the pavement near Dukes' body, bounced once and then exploded.

But Bachikasai was no longer there. In the time Woodbridge had taken to throw the grenade, the demon had traversed the space between them and butted him to the sidewalk with its shoulder. Talons rose up to rend Woodbridge as Ohlendorf, Koslowski and Ellsworth tumbled away from the impact. Woodbridge saw his life flash before his eyes.

And then Ogami was between them. She had intercepted the downward slash with her sword and held it at bay. This woman, barely one hundred pounds if you included her heavy robes, was holding back a monster twice her size while Woodbridge looked on in amazement. Her arms shook under the exertion of what she was doing. A grunt escaped from her delicate mouth.

Scrambling to his feet, PFC. Ohlendorf charged forward. He shoved the muzzle of his rifle right up against the titanic lizard's side and fired a round directly into him. Bachikasai flinched back, roaring its displeasure. Relieved of holding the monster back, Sakura brought up her sword again for another slash, while Corporal Woodbridge scrambled away. To her right, Lieutenant Graves peered from around the truck and emptied his sidearm .45 into the lizard's shoulder.

Seeing an opening, Sakura moved to strike. But she was forced at the last moment to hold back. Gon Narita appeared atop the lizard, balanced on its back. Gripping one of the demon's back spines with his right hand, he held a ward to his forehead with his left and infused it with his spirit energy. It was a brave and foolhardy thing to do, but Ogami-Sensei prayed it would work. The ward shot down from Narita's hand and struck the demon on its forehead.

As if struck by acid, Bachikasai reared up, flinging Narita to the pavement as it hissed in agony. Seeing the best opening she could hope for, Ogami-Sensei charged in and slashed at the lizard's underbelly. A ribbon of red sprang up in the wake of the sword slash and Bachikasai twisted away. Ogami struck again and again, but the speed of the demon proved too much for her. The demon landed several feet away from her and crouched, hissing angrily as it glared at her.

"You are strong, Priest!" the demon snarled at her. "And you have many annoying mosquitoes at your side."

"Our dedication to our purpose is strong, too, demon!" Sakura shouted back. "Give up this mad quest! Let the circle be broken here!"

"If we continued our duel, you might defeat me," Bachikasai hissed. "But our mission is more important than our personal glory."

"What mission?" demanded Ogami. "You seek something other than the death of the American soldiers?"

"Kill the head, and the body dies!" the demon lizard snarled. "Kill the General and the army commits seppuku!"

With that, the lizard turned and scurried toward the inner city. In a blink it was gone. Instantly Sakura bolted forward.

"Narita!" she shouted. "It's headed for the Music Hall! It seeks to kill General MacArthur! Keep up as best you can!" And she was off after it, wishing she had her steam-powered armor as she ran. Narita shot off after her, showing a speed no one would have guessed the squat priest possessed. Will Ohlendorf ran over to the jeep and motioned Woodbridge to his side.

["Help me right this jeep!"] he barked. Woodbridge complied without thinking.

["What are you going to do?"] Woodbridge demanded. The jeep righted, bouncing once. Ohlendorf climbed in.

["Get in! We've got to head it off!"] Will shouted.

["After that thing? Are you nuts? Nothing doing!"] Woodbridge bellowed.

["I got enough of what the priest said! It's headed for HQ at the music hall! We have to stop it!"]

["You can't stop it!"]

["My brother is at HQ!"] roared Will. He engaged the jeep.

["You dumb Swede, you're going to get us both killed!"] fumed Woodbridge. But he vaulted into the back of the jeep and loaded his rifle as Will wildly drove off.

At the Tokyo Music Hall, Corporal Chris Ohlendorf was starting to mount the stairs to go inside when he heard his name called. Turning, he found Yuki Saboru at the bottom of the steps. She looked up at him anxiously and, for a moment, he remembered the good times they'd had.

Then he recalled his time in confinement, wondering how much time he had left on Earth. His expression hardened. Yuki saw it and looked down.

"Chris-San," she said, unable to look at him. ["Am sorry."]

"I'm not," Chris replied in Japanese. "It showed me what you're capable of." Yuki's head flung up and she looked into the bitter contempt displayed on the face of her one-time lover. It felt like a knife had plunged into her.

Further acrimony was cut off by the roar of a jeep in the distance and the screams of alarm of Japanese citizens on the street. Yuki and Chris looked up to see a giant lizard racing down the street. Having a point of reference, Chris could see it was as big as a Clydesdale horse. Yuki could see two men throwing salt at it as it passed. She thought she recognized them as Mizuno-San the grocer and Kino-San, the man who helped out. As the salt struck the beast, it flinched and then angrily swatted at the annoyances with its tail. Kino turned and knocked Mizuno to the ground, aiding both men in barely avoiding the slash of the giant tail.

As Bachikasai turned the corner and spotted the Music Hall, it stopped for a moment. Yuki gasped in alarm. Chris dived even as the great lizard shot for them, for he thought the beast was attacking her. In reality it was attacking him. As he fell on Yuki, covering her body with his, he felt a talon slice open the back of his fatigue jacket. Chris covered Yuki, fearing the worst for both of them.

"CHRIS!" came the bellow cutting through the air amid the startled and fearful cries and Chris recognized the voice as being Will's.

He looked up, still cradling Yuki underneath him, and saw a sight that he couldn't fully comprehend. A Japanese female priest little bigger than Yuki kicked the great demon away from them, a gleaming sword in her hands, while another priest, round and squat like a snowman, tossed pieces of paper at it. Behind them, barreling up in a jeep, was his brother Will and another Marine, the Marine firing on the lizard while the jeep careened toward them. The jeep squealed to a stop near them and Will jumped out. He ran to his brother.

["Chris, you OK?"] Will gasped, kneeling down to them. He noticed the gash on his brother's back. ["Chris, you're bleeding!"]

["Superficial,"] Chris shook his head. ["What the Hell is going on? What is that?"]

["It's the monster that's been ambushing G.I.'s! The one from Kobe!"] Will exclaimed.

Looking for the monster, they found it crouched in the square, glaring at Sakura Ogami. Ogami held her sword before her, blade up and ready to attack or defend. To the side, Gon Narita was still tossing out wards, trying to trap the demon in a specific spot. Military personnel began piling out of the Music Hall, some armed. When they saw the impossible, many froze in their tracks. Some opened fire. Bachikasai glared up at them. It took a step forward, then recoiled in the face of one of Narita's wards. Tossing a look of venomous frustration at Ogami, the demon turned and shot off away from the Music Hall.

"Keep up with it!" Ogami-Sensei shouted to Narita as she took off in pursuit. "Herd it toward the shrine if you can!"

"I won't fail you, Master!" Narita shouted back heading off after it as well. This was all witnessed by Mizuno and Kino. Mizuno turned to the man.

"Thank you for saving my life, Kino," Mizuno said and bowed to him, as much as his peg leg allowed.

"After all you've done for me?" Kino smiled. "I was merely repaying your friendship. Now, do you have any more of that blessed salt?"

"I-I think so. Why?"

"Ogami-Sensei might need my help."

"Kino," Mizuno gasped softly. Then his shoulders squared. "I'll help you."

Kino put his hand on Mizuno's shoulder. "Thank you, friend, but I doubt you could keep up with that leg. The salt will be contribution enough."

Disappointed, Mizuno nodded, then hobbled into his store to get the salt. As that happened, Will grabbed his rifle and started after Ogami-Sensei.

"Will!" shouted Chris. ["Where are you going?"]

["To help put that thing into the ground!"] Will told his brother. The fearful look he received startled him. Will shot back with a smile. ["Hey, if they didn't get me in Saipan or Iwo, what makes you think some two-bit salamander will?"] And the Marine headed off at a run.

Chris scrambled to his feet in pursuit, but stopped and turned when he heard Yuki call him again. He turned back and found the same fearful expression on her face that Will had seen on his.

"Thank you for saving me," Yuki offered. She wanted to say more, but the look of contempt on Chris's face cut her words short.

["I have to go help my brother,"] he replied sourly and took off after Will. Tears welling in her eyes, Yuki looked down.

Twice Bachikasai stopped to attack American personnel it encountered. Twice this allowed Sakura Ogami to catch up to the demon. She was successful in repelling the attacks before the demon could do any damage to anyone. However, she was beginning to realize that even her sword was incapable of delivering a mortal wound to this beast. During their skirmishes, she had delivered over a dozen slashes with her blade and they had as little effect on its thick, scaly hide as the American bullets had.

The other thing she was beginning to realize was that she was growing fatigued. A glance back at Narita told her that her novitiate was growing tired, too. Yet she pushed on, in spite of her growing weariness, for to give in now would allow Bachikasai to escape. The circle of vengeance would go on and on, possibly consuming all of her precious Japan.

Bachikasai turned suddenly and glared at its pursuers. For a moment it seemed like it was going to lunge at them. Sakura didn't stop running, feeling that to take the charge head on would be best. But a ward flew in out of nowhere and slapped onto the demon's back haunch. Roaring in pain, the lizard scrambled up the steps leading to the Shrine On Sendai Hill. Seeing that this was her chance to trap the demon, Sakura shot forward and up the steps, ignoring the protests of her thighs. Moments later, Narita reached the bottom of the steps at the same time as the owner of the ward stuck to Backhkasai's flank.

"Hino!" Narita gasped out in surprise. There stood his tall, dark friend.

"I heard you and Ogami-Sensei were involved with battling a demon," Hino informed him. "I didn't think it was that big, though! Would you like some help with it?"

"All we can get!" Narita answered, flying up the steps. Hino was quickly on his heels.

Moments later Will Ohlendorf and Kentaro Kino arrived at the spot at the bottom of the stairs. The pair looked curiously at each other, Will carrying a Marine issue rifle and Kino several cakes of salt.

["Where did it go?"] Will gasped. Kino only looked at him strangely. ["Damn it!] Where go big . . .um . . ."

"The monster lizard!" Chris called out to them. They both turned and found him hastily arriving. "Did you see where the monster lizard went?"

"Yes!" Kino nodded and pointed up to the shrine. "Ogami-Sensei and Narita-San went up there, to the shrine! It must be up there!"

Not waiting for the two Marines, Kino headed up the steps. Will turned inquiringly to Chris.

["Local says that thing is up there, in the shrine!"] Chris reported. Will nodded and began ascending the stairs. ["Will, maybe you should let them handle it!"]

["That thing killed Dukes! And Jordan, Summers and Rzepcynski before!"] Will fired back. ["It was going to take out my whole company! I have to make sure it's put down! No G.I. is safe here until that thing is dead!"]

["Will, what about Yoshiko?"] Chris argued. ["You're no good to her if you're dead!"]

["Then you tell her I love her,"] he commanded his brother. ["Tell her."]

On the grounds of the shrine, Ogami-Sensei found that the sacred nature of the grounds had a momentary disorienting effect on the demon. It was standing in the center of the grounds, looking around, seemingly bewildered. This had allowed Narita and Hino to catch up to her. They spread out from either side of her, laying wards and circling around the demon. It turned sharply several times, detecting movement but unable to focus on anything. Then it locked eyes on her.

"Are you that eager to die, Priest?" it growled, its voice sounding like a buzz saw ripping through wood.

"Are you so aggrieved that you must persist in this?" Sakura answered.

"We died!" howled Bachikasai. "We died burning in agony, our flesh seared from our bones!"

"A Hellish way to die, and undeserved," Sakura told it. "We agree. But your hunger for vengeance serves nothing, least of all you! Go to your rest! Leave this place to heal its wounds and allow yourself to heal yours!"

"No! We cannot rest! We will not rest! Not until their General's bones are snapping between our teeth! Not until every American lies dead at our feet, their blood staining our claws!" Coiling rapidly, the demon sprang at Ogami. "And if you defend them, you will die, too!"

Continued in Chapter 12


	12. The Legacy Of War

WAGES OF OUR FOLLIES  
Chapter 12: "The Legacy Of War"  
A Sailor Moon/Sakura Taisen fanfic

By Bill K.

* * *

Standing under the gate to the shrine, Will and Chris Ohlendorf and Kentaro Kino gaped at the tableau before them. The massive lizard demon Bachikasai, the living embodiment of many of the spirits of the dead killed at Hiroshima, lunged for Sakura Ogami, its talons out and aimed for her body.

The priest took two steps forward, her sword before her as if to strike. Then she dived to the cobblestone walk and rolled twice until she was underneath the lunging monster. It twisted in midair even as she moved, seeing what she was attempting. However it couldn't avoid her strike. Ogami shot to her feet out of the roll and stabbed up with her sword, burying it almost to the hilt into the lizard's abdomen. Bachikasai let out a howl of pain and rage that seemed to shake the grounds. It landed awkwardly on the grass near a seventy year old tree, falling onto its side. The momentum of its leap had ripped the sword hilt from her hands. Sakura turned and crouched defensively, should the demon rise again.

"Did she kill it?" asked Kino, standing at the entrance with cakes of salt in his hands. Already Gon Narita and Futabara Hino were converging on the heavily panting priest. Will and Chris inched forward a few steps, Will's hand locked around the trigger of his rifle.

Then rise the demon did. As it rose to unsteady feet, the great demon-slaying sword was sucked into the demon's abdomen until it disappeared. Sakura stared in growing horror as the most precious heirloom of her family and the sword which had protected Japan for generations was gone, possibly forever. The priest struggled to keep her feet, as she could feel her knees grow rubbery beneath her.

"Our need for vengeance is too strong, Priest," Bachikasai hissed with low warning. "You cannot kill us. You do not have the power."

A cold feeling passed through Sakura Ogami, for she realized that the demon was right. She didn't have the power to kill it, not by herself. Maybe, just maybe, if the entire Imperial Flower Division was still around, the deed could be done. But they were gone, half of them dead and the rest gone with the winds of war.

A shot rang out, echoing through the grounds of the shrine even as Bachikasai recoiled in pain. Allowing herself a moment to glance toward the origin of the sound, Sakura saw that Will Ohlendorf had taken careful aim and shot the demon in its left eye. And a plan formed.

Swiftly she motioned Narita and Hino to her. A few words were all they needed. Nodding, the two novitiates sprinted toward the demon's left side, avoiding a snapping lunge from the wounded beast. As they moved, Ogami hurriedly motioned Kino to her. Once in reach, she grabbed the cakes of salt from him.

["Keep firing, Private!"] she yelled to Will. ["Aim for his head and do not miss!"]

It was all the motivation Will needed. The Marine continued firing, emptying his clip into the demon with little effect. While he changed clips, Chris picked up some cobblestones and threw them at the lizard, actually hitting it on the nose with one. Harried by the stinging bullets, Bachikasai was unable to defend itself when Sakura ran up. She burst the salt cakes into smaller clumps and flung the material in the demon's face. Again the monster roared in pain and lashed out with its front foot. A backward somersault took the priest easily out of harm's way.

Enraged, Bachikasai started forward, attempting to strike Ogami as she landed. But it stopped in its tracks, held by a mysterious force. Turning, looking with its good eye, the demon found that the two novitiates had, working in tandem on its blind side, spiritually tethered the beast to the huge tree. Tugging accomplished nothing, for the tree was solid and sturdy. Angrily it lunged and snapped at Narita and Hino, but the pair had erected a barrier and were beyond the demon's reach. In futility it roared to the heavens.

When it locked its good eye on Ogami-Sensei, it found the priest kneeling just out of reach. As shots and cobblestones continued to strike it, Bachikasai saw Ogami-Sensei begin the binding ritual. A new sense of urgency flooded over the great lizard. It fought and thrashed to try to escape the spiritual tether. Kino looked nervously to the two novitiates holding the great beast and wondered if they could maintain it. Narita and Hino were straining and visibly pressed to their limits.

"I banish you!" Sakura Ogami said, rising to her feet and engaging the mystical hand gestures. "I consign you to this tree and bind you there! May the gods keep you there for all of eternity!"

Bachikasai strained one last time to break free of the spiritual restraints and avoid being bound to the tree. Placing her hands wrist to wrist and spread, Ogami reared back and then thrust at the demon. A powerful spiritual force struck the great lizard and thrust it back against the massive trunk of the tree. The demon stood suspended against the tree for a moment.

"You win, Priest!" Bachikasai hissed as its form merged with the great tree and disappeared into it. "But heed my warning! Should the terrible heat and power of the man-made sun ever touch this land again, I will return! And woe upon the heads of those who allow this to happen, for even your great power and cunning will not save them from me!" And Bachikasai faded into the tree and was seen no more.

"Master!" Narita shouted, running over to Ogami as she sank to her knees. Hino ran to the shrine to get a rope of mystic talismans to place around the tree and seal the binding. Kino and the Ohlendorf brothers quickly converged, too. "Are you all right?"

"I am," wheezed Sakura. She looked up at her novitiate. "You were a great help, you and Hino. Thank you. I think you both have taken a gigantic leap towards achieving your goal, Narita-San."

"Only a gigantic leap, Master?" Narita asked with a wry smile. "I would have thought this feat would earn me a full priesthood." Sakura gave him a warm smile in return.

["Is it gone?"] Will asked. Sakura looked up to him.

["Yes, Private, it is gone. My thanks for your help and that of your brother's."] She turned to Kino. "And my thanks to you, Kino-San." Kino bowed to her.

"Thank Mizuno-San as well," Kino replied. "It was his salt. Um, perhaps you could pay for it? I'm still a little short of funds." Smirking, Ogami nodded her head.

["They are never going to believe this in Mankato,"] Chris muttered. Will playfully shoved him.

* * *

"But what happened with Oba-San and the American?" gasped Usagi. Rei grimaced.

"Usagi!" the priest hissed. Feebly Sakura waved her hand and quieted Rei.

"It's all right," grinned the ancient woman. "Of course she'd want to know. Poor Yoshiko-Chan endured three long, lonely months after the tearful departure at the Tokyo port when her Will-San was sent back home."

"Wait," Makoto gasped. "The Yoshiko in this story is your grandmother?"

"Mom never liked to talk about her," Usagi responded. "I saw pictures of her once in an album. But her husband was with her, too, and he was American."

"That's because Will-San made it back," Sakura told her. Usagi's eyes lit up in excitement over the romance of the tale. "Yoshiko had given up hope of ever seeing him again. She'd found a job with an orphanage, caring for war orphans and was helping her friend Yuki with her pregnancy." A warm smile came over the old woman. "And one day he was there."

"How? I can't imagine the Japanese government letting him back in," Ami asked.

"He joined one of the Christian Missionary groups back in America and got back in the country that way," Sakura explained. "Then, knowing that he and Yoshiko would not be safe as a couple in the city, they ran off to the countryside. They bought a farm in a remote part of the south and lived there for about fifteen years. Only when they felt it was safe for them to return did they come back to Tokyo. By then, they had two beautiful children."

"Mom and Uncle Toshiro," beamed Usagi. "No wonder Mom can cook and clean so well. It's probably all she did as a kid."

"And on that note," Makoto quipped, rolling her eyes.

"Well I guess the other American never came back," Minako said wistfully, eliciting a shocked reaction from the others, "because Mom told me that Great-grandmother Yuki had to raise Grandmother all by herself. It was one of her classic guilt trips." Then she locked eyes with Usagi and grinned. "You know what this means, Usagi?"

Usagi thought a moment. Then her face lit up. "Mina-Chan!" she squealed. "We're sisters!"

"Cousins," Ami corrected her sourly.

"No lie?" Makoto gasped in surprise.

"Kind of explains a few things, doesn't it?" scowled Rei. Usagi and Minako shot their tongues out at her in unison.

"Oh, the friendship you all have," sighed Sakura breathlessly. "It reminds me of when I was your age and of the friends I had in the Imperial Flower Division." The woman grew melancholy.

"We're sorry for making you relive things you might not want to think of again," Rei offered.

"It's all right, Rei-Chan," Sakura exhaled. Clearly she was tiring. "Reliving memories are pretty much all I have left now. And my memories of Iris and Maria, Kohran and Kanna, Reni and even Sumire are the most pleasant of all." She wheezed out a tired breath and Ami signaled that it might be time to go. "It was nice to see you again, Rei-Chan. I wish I'd had a chance to see Gon again before he died."

"He wished the same," Rei told her.

"Please forgive an old woman," she said to the five of them. "I really have to rest now."

Rei reached in and kissed the woman's forehead. They all backed out of the room

In the car, on the way back to Tokyo, the five women were still talking about the story they'd heard.

"I can't believe Grandmother Yoshiko was a Pan-Pan Girl after the war!" Usagi exclaimed. "Ami?"

"Yes, Usagi?" Ami asked as she drove.

"What's a Pan-Pan Girl?" Usagi glanced in bewilderment at Minako as her friend struggled to keep from laughing out loud. Meanwhile Makoto noticed the coloring in Ami's cheeks, something she hadn't seen Ami do in a while.

"Um," Ami swallowed, "maybe you should Google it."

"You know," Makoto began, trying to change the subject, "we should find that tree and make sure that the seals are intact. I wouldn't want to have to take on that Bachikasai thing."

"Don't worry, it's fine," Rei said with assurance. Everyone glanced at her. "The tree is on the grounds of the Shrine on Sendai Hill."

"You knew this whole story?" Minako asked.

"Not the whole story," Rei explained. "I knew Ogami-Sensei had left the shrine in Grandpa's care when he became a full priest. When I was little, he would always warn me to avoid one particular tree on the grounds. He never explained why, but I figure that has to be the tree Ogami-Sensei sealed Bachikasai in. And Deimos and Phobos won't go near it, which is another clue. I've been careful to maintain the seals after he died."

"That's good," Minako sighed. "So where did Ogami-Sensei go?"

"She returned to Sendai to atone for losing the family sword, according to Grandpa," Rei related. "Then she spent the rest of her life wandering Japan and doing good, until she couldn't physically get around anymore." Rei looked down, the enormity of the memory weighing on her. "She's a remarkable woman."

There was silence in the car.

"I just wonder," Rei continued, her brow furrowed, "she's lived with that story for over sixty years. Why did she feel the need to tell us now?"

* * *

Saturday, March 5, 2011:

After her usual morning walk through the grounds, Rei returned to her living quarters in the shrine. This was the first day she'd understood the feelings she'd always experienced when she walked past a particular tree on the grounds. So that was where Bachikasai slept.

Noticing the light was blinking on the answering machine next to the phone, Rei walked over. Her finger moved to press the button, then held up. The machine was a gift from Usagi because, in her words, she "was tired of calling and not getting an answer" and her friend had gone on and on about how it was past time Rei joined the twenty-first century and how she shouldn't be afraid of it. Finally Rei accepted it just to shut Usagi up. But now she hesitated. The machine had only been there for two weeks and she still wasn't sure she knew how to operate it. And she hated machines anyway because you couldn't read the little monsters like she could humans.

Spotting a button labeled "play", Rei grimaced and pushed it.

"This is the Restful Hills Retirement Community, Hino-Sensei," the machine said, playing back the phone message. "I'm sorry we weren't able to speak to you directly. We're calling to tell you that Ogami-Sensei died this morning. The cause of death has been determined to be respiratory failure due to old age. We're very sorry for your loss. If you can contact our office as soon as is convenient to make funeral arrangements, we would greatly appreciate it. Good-bye."

Rei just stared at the answering machine, tears welling in her eyes. She'd just seen Ogami-Sensei yesterday. It had only been yesterday.

Continued in "WRATH OF THE GODS"


End file.
